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OLD FORT SCHUYLER 


BY THE SAME AUTHOR 


The Ward Hill Series 

WARD HILL AT WESTON 

i2mo, 336 pages. Price, $1.25 

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1420 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia 





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“ standing directly before them was an Indian.” 

Page 169. 


Old Fort Schuyler 


BYf/ 

EVERETT T. TOMLINSON 

AUTHOR OF 

The Ward Hill Series, Trisoner in “ The *Bqys of 

Old ^onmouth^' “ Camping on the St. Lawrence^' 

Jersey "Boy in the T^evolution^' etc. 


» * * 


PHILADELPHIA 

ZTbe (3rimtb 8 . IRowlanD ipreaa 

IQOI 




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• • 



the library of 

CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

APR. 27 1901 

COPYRtOHT ENTRY 

CLASS<^XXc. N«*. 

^ © /9 

COPY B. 


Copyright 1901 by the 

American Baptist Publication Society 


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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

‘ ' Standing directly before them was an Indian. ' ' 

Frontispiece 

“ 'Jonathan, you must run to the fort for aid.' " . . 36 

“ ‘ Colonel Gansevoort, do you know Sam Geake f'" . 87 

“ 'Show it to me,' said the sergeant." 152 

“ With a whoop the two htdians bounded after him." . 236 

“ They then brought hemlock boughs and effectually 

concealed him." 262 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I. A Project 9 

II. Interrupted Sport 18 

III. The Discovery 28 

IV. The Return to the Fort 37 

V. The Presence of the Enemy 46 

VI. The Searching Party 55 

VII. An Unexpected Return 64 

• VIII. The Race to the Fort 72 

IX. The Strange Interview with the Colo- 

nel 81 

X. The Colonel’s Word 91 

XI. The Meeting Near the Mohawk ... 10 1 

XII. A Missing Canoe no 

XIII. A Night of Peril 119 

XIV. An Ally 12G 

XV. The Place of Peril 137 

XVI. Jonathan’s Ruse 146 


7 


8 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XVII. Flight 155 

XVIII. A Great Chief 164 

XIX. The Summons for Jonathan 173 

XX. The Trial 182 

XXI. The Meeting with Han Yost 191 

XXII. Mellon’s Scout 201 

XXIII. The Proclamation 209 

XXIV. On Guard 218 

XXV. A Pursuit 228 

XXVI. A Trap 237 

XXVII. The Battle of Oriskany ....... 246 

XXVIII. David’s Errand 256 

XXIX. A Sortie 265 

XXX. The Last Venture 275 

XXXI. Conclusion 285 







OLD FORT SCHUYLER 


CHAPTER I 

A PROJECT 

F ort STANWIX had been erected in 1758. 

Some of the scattered people of the Mo- 
hawk Valley could well remember that dreadful 
year when General Abercrombie had been defeated 
by the French and Indians at Ticonderoga, and 
how more than two thousand of the regulars and 
their colonial allies had been lost — a terrible loss 
too, in a sparsely settled land where the protectors 
of the homes were all too few to render efficient 
aid against the French and the Indians whom they 
had succeeded in arousing. 

However troubled the settlers had been by the 
defeat of Abercrombie at Ticonderoga, that com- 
mander himself had shown the true Saxon courage 
and had speedily dispatched General Stanwix to 
the headwaters of the Mohawk to erect the fort 
which had received the name of its builder. 

Fort Stanwix, moreover, in its day had been no 
insignificant place. It was a square fort surrounded 

9 


lO 


A PROJECT 


by a ditch which was broad and deep. On one side 
it was protected by a swamp which came close up 
to the walls, and on the other three sides it had a 
covert way and a glacis around three of its angles. 
All this, with the four bastions, was deemed suffi- 
cient to protect the soldiers stationed within from 
sudden attacks of the red men, or their no less 
treacherous and stealthy allies, the Frenchmen, who 
were bent on retaining as well as gaining a goodly 
portion of the new world. To make assurance 
doubly sure, however, a drawbridge had been made 
in front of the gate, itself well protected, while 
in the center of the ditch a row of sharpened 
pickets had been driven and another row equally 
sharp had been fixed about the ramparts, so that 
the quaint old fort somewhat resembled a porcu- 
pine with its quills thrust out to warn all against 
coming too near. 

Such had been the condition of old Fort Stanwix 
in the French and Indian war, but with the coming 
of peace the place had fallen somewhat into decay. 
The winter winds had found in the ditch a place 
into which they could sweep the loosened earth 
and flying leaves, and when the war of the Revolu- 
tion broke out, the ditch which had once been 
thought a sure protection was almost level with the 
adjacent ground. The pickets too had decayed 
and many of them had crumbled and fallen, so that 


A PROJECT 


I I 

if any one had thought of comparing the fort with 
a bristling porcupine he would have thought that 
the “little beast” had grown weary of its attitude 
of defense and was slowly withdrawing its threat- 
ening weapons. 

Another change had also come over Fort Stanwix, 
and that was in its name, though many of the sturdy 
Dutchmen of the valley still persisted in calling it 
by the name first bestowed upon it. Colonel Day- 
ton, who with his men had seized the place in 1776, 
had bestowed upon the fort the name of General 
Philip Schuyler, who was beloved by many, mis- 
understood by some, but nevertheless was one of 
the ablest of the American generals. At least he 
was so considered by the British, and perhaps the 
real test of the ability of a soldier is to be found in 
the reputation he has among his enemies as much 
as in the estimation of his friends. As General 
Washington himself shared the feeling with the 
English generals, it is safe for us, in these far-away 
days of ours, to believe that they were correct, and 
that Philip Schuyler has at last come into his own 
again, and that as contrasted with the petty Gates, 
who in his jealousy plotted against him, he stands 
forth as one of the true noblemen of those terrible 
days of the Revolution. 

Fort Schuyler, poorl)’ equipped though it was, 
and still more poorly provided with a defense, was 


12 


A PROJECT 


once more occupied by soldiers, and in the sum- 
mer of 1777 was to have its full share in the stirring 
events of the times. Perhaps Colonel Gansevoort, 
who at the time was in command of the fort, was 
the only one there who was fully aware of the dan- 
gers which beset him, for the men who were with 
him for the most part were inclined to belittle his 
fekrs and rebel against the monotony and drudgery 
of the life in Fort Schuyler. 

The sturdy colonel, however, had been doing his 
utmost to repair the ditch and restore the walls to 
something of their former condition. Though the 
labor was not difficult, the men complained none 
the less and pretended not to believe the rumors 
which were current, of an ajivancing British force 
which was to come up the St. Lawrence to Oswego 
and then from that point sweep down the Mohawk 
Valley to Albany, where the army of General John 
Burgoyne was to unite with them. So the colonel 
found his task no light one. 

Nor would his men believe him when he told 
them of the Indians who had promised to join the 
forces of Barry St. Leger, the commander of the 
supposedly approaching British army. The Onei- 
das were the nearest neighbors of the fort, and as 
they were strong in their expressions of devotion 
to the cause of the Colonies, and even Colonel 
Gansevoort himself seemed to trust them fully, 


A PROJECT 


13 


there was some apparent ground for the feeling. 
We are told, however, that appearances are ever 
deceitful, and we shall learn in the course of this 
story whether or not old Fort Schuyler was any ex- 
ception to the rule. 

However, in the closing days of June, 1777, 
nothing had as yet appeared to shake the confi- 
dence of the men, or show that the colonel was 
better informed than his followers. The warm 
summer days had made many a soldier long to re- 
turn to his home and leave for good and all the 
monotonous life at the fort. Never had the sum- 
mer skies been more beautiful, nor the air more 
fragrant with the breath of the woods. The songs 
of the birds were in volume like the music of a full 
orchestra. The very trees and bushes seemed to 
be alive and there were times when the light of the 
sun seemed to be darkened by the great flocks of 
wild pigeons which swept low over the land in their 
flight. 

Upon no one did the tedious tasks in the fort 
fall more heavily than upon two of the youngest 
soldiers there. These two were brothers, David 
and Jonathan Hardin, who had left their home a 
few weeks before this time to take their part in the 
coming struggle. As the elder of these was but 
eighteen years of age, two years older than his 
brother, perhaps their feeling of rebellion against 


4 


A PROJECT 


the confinement was but natural. At all events 
the feeling was theirs when, on the night of June 
25, I777> stretched themselves upon the 

ground, having received permission to sleep outside 
the barracks because the air was so hot and sultry. 
They were joined by their friend and neighbor, 
Mynderse Roof, a young fellow of their own age, 
and gave vent to their depression in terms they 
would not have used had they been sleeping with 
their companions. 

“’Tis nonsense,” said David, “this keeping us 
cooped up here as I would shut in a setting hen.” 

“That’s the feeling I have too,” responded 
Jonathan, with all of a younger brother’s confidence 
in an older brother’s word. “ ’Tis a shame, for 
even the plowing has not yet been done.” 

“’Tis the first time I ever heard you long for 
that,” said Mynderse shortly. “I thought you 
would rather try for the fish in the creek or the 
wolf in your trap than that.” 

It was too dark to enable the boys to see the 
face of their companion, but had it been broad 
daylight they would not have seen any change in 
its expression. It was a face as full and round as 
that of the moon and the body to which it be- 
longed was like unto it, for Mynderse was as sturdy 
and phlegmatic a fellow as ever lived on the Ger- 
man Flats. With a grip almost as strong as that 


A PROJECT 


5 


of the wolf trap to which he had referred, he was 
so uniformly good-natured and so slow to anger 
that he did not even resent the bantering of his 
few boy neighbors. 

“I’d be glad to do it now, anyway,” retorted 
Jonathan. “I don’t believe there’ll be a redcoat 
here all summer, and as for the redskins they won’t 
come within the range of our guns, I’ll venture a 
shilling.” 

“They know you’re here, Jonathan, and that’s 
enough to keep them off,” said David dryly. 

“You needn’t make fun of me, just because 
you’re two years older and two inches taller than I 
am,” retorted the lad. “You had all you could do 
to throw me the last time we wrestled, and if you 
want to try it now. I’m ready for you.” 

“Save your strength,” said David. “You may 
need it all soon.” 

“ Not in this pen. I wish I could get out, if it 
was only for a day.” 

“Some do go out,” said Mynderse. 

“What do you mean?” said Jonathan quickly. 

“ Nothing much ; only I happened to hear Cap- 
tain Gregg and Corporal Madison talking to-night, 
and the sight of the pigeons has been too much for 
them. They are going out of the fort in the morn- 
ing for an hour or two and are going to take the 
captain’s dog along.” 


i6 


A PROJECT 


“I wish I was the dog,” responded Jonathan 
gloomily. 

“You well might,” said David. “Stan knows 
more than half the men here. For myself I be- 
lieve he knows almost as much as his namesake, 
General Stanwix himself” 

“He is a smart dog,” acknowledged Jonathan, 
“and knows all the tricks. He can do almost 
everything but talk.” 

“ He’d know enough not to do that at such a 
time as this when every one ought to be asleep.” 

“ But I wish I could go too,” continued Jona- 
than, unmindful of the hint. 

“ I’ve a good mind to ask the colonel if I can go 
with them.” 

“ Better not,” said Mynderse. 

“Why?” 

“ Because they aren’t going to ask it themselves.” 

“What? Are they going out without permis- 
sion ? ” 

“That’s what they said.” 

Jonathan was- silent a moment and then said 
eagerly : “ Boys, if they can go that way, why can’t 
we? It just shows they don’t believe any of the 
stories, and we don’t come on duty till afternoon. 
Why can’t we go out in the morning for an hour 
or two. I’d like to try the fishing in the creek and 
so would you, I know. I’ve got some lines and 


A PROJECT 


7 


hooks and we can cut some poles and we sha’n’t 
need to stay but an hour or two. The colonel 
doesn’t really care, or Captain Gregg wouldn’t go. 
Come on, boys. What do you say?” 

“ I say no,” said Mynderse. 

“ I’ll think it over,” said David, “if you’ll let me 
sleep now.” 

Jonathan did not respond, but before it was light 
on the following morning he and his brother stole 
silently out of the fort and soon were walking 
through the forest toward the creek. The eager 
pleadings of the younger brother had prevailed 
over the better judgment of the elder and they 
had set forth on an expedition which proved to 
be eventful in the annals of the Mohawk Valley. 


B 


CHAPTER II 


INTERRUPTED SPORT 



HE bracing air of the early June morning, as 


well as the temporary freedom from the re- 
strictions of the life in Fort Schuyler, combined for 
a time to enable the boys to forget the possible 
punishment they might receive if their absence 
without permission should be discovered. Colonel 
Gansevoort, tireless worker though he himself was, 
had not been so severe in his discipline as had 
many of the commanders and his kindness of heart 
ought to have served to restrain the young soldiers 
from breaking one of the rules of the fort as they 
were now doing. The example of the captain and 
corporal who had preceded them served as an ex- 
cuse, and though the officers had not perceived the 
boys when they had followed at a safe distance, yet 
none the less was their act one of disloyalty to their 
commander, and, like all the deeds of every man, 
was not to be confined in its effects to them alone. 

“ I say, David,” said Jonathan Hardin after the 
boys had gone so far into the forest that the fort 
could no longer be seen, “ let’s dig for worms here. 
This looks like a good place.” 


Interrupted sport 19 

As David consented, Jonathan seized a stick and 
began to pry up the soft moist earth for the bait. 
This was speedily found and as the boys turned to 
proceed on their way to the creek they were startled 
by the appearance of Stan, Captain Gregg’s dog. 
The animal seemed to be as excited as the boys 
over the respite from the garrison life, and as he 
leaped and frisked about them he gave expression 
to his delight by his loud barkings. He steadily 
refused the proffered caresses of the boys and then, 
as suddenly as he had appeared, darted into the 
woods and disappeared from sight. 

The sound of a gun not far away for a moment 
startled the boys, but quickly concluding that the 
captain had discovered the game he was seeking 
they continued on their way. As if to strengthen 
their conclusion the air suddenly became darkened 
and a noise like that produced by a strong wind 
among the trees was heard. 

“Just look at that, will you?” exclaimed Jona- 
than excitedly. “ Did you ever see the like ! ” 

Hundreds and even thousands of the wild pigeons 
could be seen all about them. They were flying low 
and seemed to be unaware, or at least unmindful, of 
the presence of the boys. For a moment some of 
them perched upon the near-by trees, and then with 
a loud whirring of their wings rose into the air and 
passed overhead. 


20 


INTERRUPTED SPORT 


“ If I’d had a pole I could have knocked a score 
or more off that tree,” said Jonathan eagerly. 
“ Don’t you suppose we can get some before we go 
back?” 

“Yes, I think so,” replied David. “If we have 
any luck fishing we’ll take a mess to the colonel, 
and I’m sure he’ll forgive us for leaving without 
permission. I feel mean about that already and 
I’m going to own up when we go back.” 

“That’ll be all right as long as you do the fishing 
first,” said Jonathan lightly. “ If we can add a 
dozen good fat pigeons to the string of fish. Colonel 
Gansevoort will feel better natured still. What do 
you suppose the reason was that Mynderse wouldn’t 
come with us ? ” 

“You know as well as I.” 

“Was it that he wouldn’t leave without permis- 
sion ? ” 

“That's just what it was.” 

“Well, when he sees the luck we’ve had he’ll 
feel differently. Just think of having fish and 
pigeons for our mess to-night.” 

“We’ll have to get both first.” 

“There’s the creek, anyway, and we’ll soon settle 
one part of our task. There’s where we can cut 
our poles,” he added pointing, as he spoke, to a 
thick clump of bushes growing near the bank. 

Rods were soon secured and the boys, unmind- 


INTERRUPTED SPORT 


21 


ful now of Mynderse and their failure to secure 
permission to leave the fort, were soon engaged in 
their sport. Truly it seemed for a time as if the 
fish had been waiting for their coming. They were 
biting savagely, and the boys, without being com- 
pelled to leave the place they had selected on the 
bank, were soon satisfied with the number they 
had secured. 

“I’m going to make a try for some of those 
pickerel,” exclaimed Jonathan eagerly. “ Look at 
them whirl, will you ? ” he added, as one came to 
the surface and with a lunge that they could easily 
hear turned and darted into the stream again. 

Selecting one of the smaller fish Jonathan ad- 
justed it to his hook and then began to drag it 
over the surface of the creek. The second time he 
made the attempt there was a lunge, his hook was 
seized and the line dragged swiftly beneath the 
water. Even the end of his pole was under water 
and for a moment Jonathan lifted and pulled with- 
out apparently making any impression on the mon- 
ster he had hooked. 

“I’ve got the great-grandfather of all the pickerel 
in Wood Creek,” he exclaimed. “Whew! Just 
see that I ” he added as the fish made a sudden 
dart toward the other bank and for a moment the 
lad simply held to his pole, the line leading straight 
across the stream. 


22 


INTERRUPTED SPORT 


It was only for a moment, however, for suddenly 
there was a relief of the strain and Jonathan almost 
fell back upon the bank as the pole showed there 
was nothing now to prevent the fisherman from 
lifting or moving it as he chose. The lad drew the 
line in and for a moment gazed ruefully at the end 
which looked much as if it had been cut with a 
knife and both fish and hook were gone. 

“ You ought to have known better than that,” 
said David reprovingly. 

“I do now, thank you kindly,” replied Jonathan 
tartly. 

“We haven’t another hook and your fun is all 
gone. Mine you see is only started,” he added, as 
he hooked a large dace, which he threw upon the 
bank and then calmly resumed his occupation. 

“I say, Dave,” said Jonathan slowly, “you’re a 
wise fellow after the thing is done, aren’t you ? A 
little while ago you said you were going to speak 
to the colonel. Why didn’t you speak to him be- 
fore we left? I’m half afraid to go back now. 
Suppose he should shut us up in the guard house, 
or order us twenty lashes.” 

“We’re in for it, anyway,” said David slowly, as 
if the thought were not altogether comforting. 

“But I wish you had spoken to him before.” 

“So do I, but I didn’t. You might have done 
it, you are so eager about it.” 


INTERRUPTED SPORT 


23 


“Aren’t you ’most ready to go back?” 

“Not yet, I want to get a few more. I’ll be 
ready soon.” 

“Then I’m not going to stay here and watch 
you. I think I’d rather face the colonel than sit 
here on the bank and see you have all the fun. 
My, but that’s a beauty!” he exclaimed, as David 
drew in the largest catch of the morning. “I say, 
Dave,” he added, “I’ll take my pole and go back 
here a ways and see if I can’t get a few pigeons. 
I might as well be doing that as to sit here doing 
nothing but watch you.” 

“All right,” replied David, without even glancing 
at his brother. “ Don’t go far away. We’ll go back 
to the fort in a few minutes.” 

Jonathan made no reply as he untied his line 
and thrust it into his pocket. Then taking up his 
pole he walked toward an open space he could see, 
farther up the shore. There he took his stand and 
waited. Several minutes passed and the silence of 
the forest was unbroken, save by the calls of the 
birds in the bushes. The sun was well up in the 
sky and the lad knew that it must be nine o’clock 
or later. The question as to how he and his 
brother were to make their way back into the fort 
was troubling him now. Somehow the sport of 
the morning appeared in a different light from that 
in which he had viewed it before. The guard 


24 


INTERRUPTED SPORT 


would be sure to see them and it was more than 
likely he would report them to the commander, and 
of what might then occur Jonathan did not care to 
think. 

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the 
sound for which he had been waiting. The pigeons 
were coming, and grasping his pole and taking an 
attitude of readiness he waited for their approach. 
The noise became louder and louder and soon the 
birds were upon him. They were almost countless, 
he thought, but striking swiftly about him he brought 
several to the ground before they passed. Then 
taking his line from his pocket he tied his prizes 
together and, with visions of the “pigeon pie” 
which he would have after his return to the fort, a 
dish which he well knew Mynderse knew how to 
prepare, he made ready to go back to the bank 
where he had left his brother. 

As he lifted his burden he was startled by the 
sound of some one or of some thing running swiftly 
through the woods, and in a moment it became 
evident that whatever it might be it was coming 
directly toward him. He had not been able to 
bring a gun with him when he had left the fort, and 
realizing as he did now his helplessness in case he 
should be attacked, he stood ready to dash into 
the woods at the first sign of danger. 

In a moment the captain’s dog, Stan, appeared. 


INTERRUPTED SPORT 


25 


and in the relief his coming afforded Jonathan was 
ready to caress his pet as he had never done before. 
Stan, however, was evidently in no mood for pet- 
ting. As soon as he caught sight of his friend he 
began to leap about him with a succession of short 
barks and whinings. He would look eagerly into 
the lad’s face and then start toward the forest, but 
when he perceived that he was not followed he re- 
turned to repeat the performance. 

“I guess you’re afraid to meet the colonel too,” 
said Jonathan, as he once more picked up his string 
of birds and prepared to go back to his brother. 

The strange antics of Stan still continued, how- 
ever, and all the way back to the creek he whined 
in a manner which was most pathetic, and at other 
times would not have failed to receive more atten- 
tion than Jonathan then bestowed upon him. 

As David had already heard the disturbance, he 
approached to discover its cause, and at the sight 
of him the dog at once left Jonathan and bestowed 
all his attention upon him. Stan leaped upon the 
young soldier, trying to lick his face, and the re- 
buffs he received only seemed to make him more 
eager. He barked and whined piteously and then 
darted into the woods, only to return immediately 
when he perceived that he still was not followed. 

What’s the matter with the fellow?” exclaimed 
David at last 


26 


INTERRUPTED SPORT 


don’t know,” responded Jonathan. “That’s 
just the way he has been serving me. I can’t 
make anything out of it.” 

“ Is he hurt?” 

“ I think not. Come here, Stan,” said Jonathan, 
dropping upon one knee and calling the dog to 
him. 

Stan rushed to him at the call and his frantic 
efforts redoubled. He seemed almost beside him- 
self with excitement. His barking became louder 
and again and again he started toward the forest. 

“I’m afraid something is wrong with Captain 
Gregg,” said David slowly. 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Jonathan 
quickly. “ Here, Stan,” he called. “Where’s the 
captain? Where’s your master?” 

The dog stopped and stood looking up into the 
lad’s face with an expression almost human in its 
pathos. He slightly turned his head from one side 
to the other and emitted a low whine. 

“That’s what it is — there’s something wrong 
with Captain Gregg,” said Jonathan decidedly. 
“Pick up your things, Dave, and we’ll soon find 
out.” 

As soon as he perceived their actions, Stan once 
more darted into the woods, and as he saw that the 
boys were this time following him his delight 
seemed to know no bounds. Convinced now that 


INTERRUPTED SPORT 


27 


their interpretation had been correct, the boys 
pushed rapidly forward, Stan meanwhile frequently 
returning to them and manifesting his delight in 
his own expressive manner, and soon they had left 
Wood Creek far behind them and were in the 
depths of the primeval forest. 


CHAPTER III 


THE DISCOVERY 


EITHER of the brothers spoke as they fol- 



-t ^ lowed the captain’s dog, for the strangeness 
of his antics, as well as the fear of some evil which 
had befallen the hunters, was uppermost in their 
minds now. Besides this, there was the added fear 
of what might be expected from the advancing 
host which rumor said was to come from Oswego. 
It was true that many in the garrison were inclined 
to belittle the fears of those who prophesied that 
serious danger was impending, and the most that was 
known, at least among the men, was that Thomas 
Spencer, the friendly half-breed Oneida sachem, 
had been sent to Canada as a spy and that he had 
returned with information that the rumor had been 
correct. Indeed, it was claimed by some that 
Thomas had even been present at a council over 
which Colonel Claus, a brother-in-law of the famous 
Tory leader. Sir John Johnson, had presided and 
that there he had heard all the details of the 
coming campaign discussed. 

Thomas had also reported, so it was said, that 
Sir John Johnson and Colonel Claus, with their 


28 


THE DISCOVERY 


29 


families, were already at Oswego in command of 
seven hundred Indians of the Six Nations and of 
four hundred of the regulars ; that there were also 
at Oswegatchie (Ogdensburg) six hundred Tories 
who were ready to join them, and that another hated 
Tory, Colonel John Butler, was to come to Oswego 
from Niagara about the middle of July with an 
additional force of Tories and Indians. 

Reports were also rife of Colonel Barry St. Leger, 
who, with a large band of regulars, was soon to 
come from Montreal with an army which would 
absorb all the forces just referred to and with his 
united band was to sweep the country clear from 
Oswego to Albany and there, as has already been 
said, unite with a still larger body of troops which 
Sir John Burgoyne was to lead from Montreal, up 
Lake Champlain and Lake George to secure the 
forts on the shores, defeat General Schuyler’s army, 
and form a junction with Clinton and St. Leger at 
Albany. Thus Burgoyne hoped to split apart ef- 
fectively the struggling Colonies, and by preventing 
them from uniting or holding communication with 
each other, be free to give his entire attention to 
each part and so bring the rebellion to a speedy 
end. 

Colonel Peter Gansevoort, in command of Fort 
Schuyler, had been only too well assured of the 
truthfulness of these reports and his letters to Gen- 


30 


THE DISCOVERY 


eral Schuyler imploring aid were most pathetic. 
General Schuyler, we may be sure, did his utmost 
to aid his unfortunate countrymen, and urged upon 
the General Congress and the Provincial Congress 
of New York the necessity of assisting the feeble 
garrison at the headwaters of the Mohawk. It 
was too late, however, for anything to be done and 
the patriots of the Mohawk Valley speedily learned 
that they must rely upon their own efforts for safety 
if they were to be shielded from the attacks of their 
advancing foes. 

Of the work which was being done in old Fort 
Schuyler we already know. The commander real- 
ized the powerlessness of Philip Schuyler to aid 
him, for when the general had suggested to his 
fellow-officers the advisability of sending a part of 
the army to the assistance of Fort Schuyler he had 
been boldy accused of being a traitor and of will- 
fully intending to weaken the army, already much 
too small and feeble to withstand the approach of 
the regulars under the command of bold John Bur- 
goyne, who had boastfully declared that in three 
months the rebellion would be crushed and he 
would be dancing with the ladies of New York in 
celebration of the peace which was sure to come. 

Colonel Gansevoort had only a few hundred men 
under his command at Fort Schuyler. Many of 
these were rude countrymen who had hastily and, 


THE DISCOVERY 


31 


be it said, sometimes reluctantly left their homes 
and families to come to the aid of the fort which 
they only partly believed was in any real danger. 
Old men and boys were also there and the heart of 
the sturdy colonel was more than heavy when he 
counted up his resources, for whatever the feeling 
among the men may have been, he at least was 
convinced that the danger was not fanciful and 
that a few weeks would suffice to convince the 
most skeptical that Brant and St. Leger were no 
mythical foes. 

When the call for defenders for the fort had been 
made, David and Jonathan Hardin had been among 
the first to respond. Their father had laughed at 
the threatening danger ; but although he had been 
loth to lose the services of his two boys in the busy 
summer time, he had, nevertheless, given his con- 
sent to their going, declaring that “ a little soldier- 
ing would do the lads good.” 

One of the strongest inducements to the two boys 
had been the fact that their nearest neighbor, Myn- 
derse Roof, was to go, for Mynderse had an uncle 
in Fort Schuyler, Captain Johannis Roof, and he 
had promised to exercise a special oversight for the 
lads. So about the first of June the three boys 
had entered the fort — David fair-haired and stalwart, 
self-contained and confident, a marked contrast to 
his younger brother Jonathan, a slim, wiiy, impul- 


32 


THE DISCOVERY 


sive, dark-haired, and dark-eyed boy of sixteen. 
Their friend, Mynderse, phlegmatic and steady, had 
seemed to Mistress Hardin a fitting companion to 
her boys, for he would never be one to venture 
rashly into danger and would help to restrain the 
thoughtless Jonathan, who ever seemed to be the 
one to fall into mischief or peril. 

That Mynderse did not always prevail, the de- 
parture of the boys from the fort to test the fishing 
in Wood Creek clearly showed. However, he had 
not rebelled against the monotony of the life in the 
garrison as had Jonathan and perhaps was not 
wholly able to sympathize with the impulsive lad 
in his dislike for the tasks which the sadly troubled 
colonel, without fear or favor, had placed upon all 
his men. 

Mynderse, perhaps by virtue of his relations to 
his uncle, the captain, preferred to believe that the 
stories of the oncoming Indians and redcoats were 
true, nor was he to be laughed out of his opinions 
by his two friends, who pretended to be skeptical as 
to the presence of enemies. However much they 
may have laughed at these reports in the fort, now 
that they were following Captain Gregg’s dog 
through the sombre forest the rumors appeared in 
a decidedly different light, and though neither of 
the brothers referred to his fears, the glances they 
bestowed upon the open spaces about them clearly 


THE DISCOVERY 33 

indicated the nervous dread which possessed .each 
of them. 

They had followed Stan for almost a mile and as 
yet had not discovered anything amiss. The sun 
shining through the tops of the trees clearly indi- 
cated that the time was approaching when they 
must be due at the fort and neither cared to face 
the anger of the commander when the absence 
from the duty he was the most insistent upon 
should be discovered. To be away when nothing 
was required of them was an entirely different mat- 
ter from shirking the duty of laboring upon the 
feeble defenses of the old fort. 

“We’ve gone far enough,” said David at last. 
“We’ll be late as it is, and I’m not going any 
farther. Come on, Jon, we’ll go back now.” 

As David stopped and the dog perceived his 
action his excitement increased. He began to 
bark furiously and several times darted into the 
woods before them, only to return and circle the 
boys, leaping upon them and doing his utmost to 
interest them. 

“ We might as well be hung for sheep as lambs,” 
said Jonathan lightly. “We’ll be late, anyw^ay, as 
you say, and we might just as well push on a little 
farther.” 

“Not another foot,” said David doggedly. 

“ Well, wait a minute till I follow Stan into that 
c 


34 


THE DISCOVERY 


open place ahead and then I’ll come back and we’ll 
start for the fort Perhaps Stan has gone crazy or 
mad and is fooling us after all.” 

“ He isn’t the one to be mad,” said David dryly. 
“I’ll wait a minute for you, though, but it’ll be 
only a minute. Hurry up.” 

Jonathan thus bidden turned to follow the well- 
nigh frantic dog, who as soon as he perceived that 
he had secured the attention again of one of the 
boys at least ran swiftly into the woods and disap- 
peared from sight. 

“Here, Stan. Where are you, sir?” called Jon- 
athan lightly, as he quickly followed. 

For a moment, as he stepped into what seemed 
almost like a cleared space, he could not see the 
animal, but a low whine caused him to glance 
quickly to one side and the sight which met his 
eyes caused the blood to leave his face and made 
his knees tremble so that he almost fell to the 
ground. 

Upon the ground lay stretched the bodies of 
Captain Gregg and Corporal Madison. A glance 
at the latter quickly showed that life was gone, and 
the bleeding head only too plainly indicated what 
had befallen him. Captain Gregg’s bleeding form 
was close to that of his companion, his head resting 
upon the body of his friend. His head too plainly 
showed who had attacked them, and for a moment 


THE DISCOVERY 


35 


as Jonathan gazed at the fearful sight, the sound of 
the songs of the birds seemed far away and the 
open space among the tops of the trees spun around 
and around. 

Quickly recovering, he rushed forward, but one 
glance was sufficient to show that the corporal was 
dead. The captain, however, seemed to be breath- 
ing still, and in the hope that something might 
yet be done for him Jonathan turned and ran 
swiftly back to the place where he had left his 
brother. 

As he approached he was greeted by David's 
words: “Well, Jon, are you ready to go back 

now? Have you seen all — Jonathan ! Jonathan !“ 
he hastily added, as he perceived the colorless face 
of his brother, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? 
What is it? What is it?” 

“Oh, Dave !” gasped Jonathan. 

“What is it? Tell me, boy. What is it?” ex- 
claimed David, as he grasped the trembling lad by 
the shoulder, as if he would bring him to himself 

“There, there!” whispered Jonathan, pointing. 
“ It’s the captain, Captain Gregg.” 

David waited to hear no more, but ran swiftly in 
the direction indicated, and when the younger 
brother joined him he found him kneeling by the 
captain’s side, striving to bind up his wounds with 
his neckerchief 


36 


THE DISCOVERY 


“Jonathan,” said David, “you must run to the 
fort for aid. It’s Indians.” 

“And leave you here alone? ” 

“Yes, yes. Don’t wait a moment.” 

Without waiting to consider the matter more, 
Jonathan instantly obeyed, and leaving his brother 
with the suffering captain and his dead companion, 
started swiftly toward Fort Schuyler, a mile and a 
half away. 



‘Jonathan, you must run to the fort for aid.’ ” 


Page JG 



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. X I 


CHAPTER IV 


THE RETURN TO THE FORT 

HE young soldier never knew just how he cov- 



^ ered the distance between the place where 
he had left his brother with the fallen men and the 
fort. Stumbling over the fallen logs, his hands and 
face scratched by the bushes, unimpeded by a 
weapon, and fish and pigeons alike cast aside and 
forgotten, he sped on and on and in a brief time 
beheld the rude structure before him. 

All thoughts of the punishment he might receive 
for having left the fort without permission were 
gone now, and possessed by the one desire to give 
information and gain help for the brother he had 
left behind him and for their fallen comrades, he 
made his way past the sentry and in a condition 
well-nigh breathless entered the fort. 

“ Where’s the colonel? I must see Colonel Gan- 
sevoort. Where is he? Where is he?” He had 
asked the questions of the first soldier he had met, 
but in his excitement he had almost failed to recog- 
nize his friend Mynderse, who was gazing at him in 
astonishment, and as if he could not believe that it 
really was Jonathan Hardin before him. 


37 


38 


THE RETURN TO THE FORT 


“Vat it was?” inquired Mynderse, dropping for 
the moment into the dialect which he seldom used 
except when he was greatly agitated. “Vat for 
you pe in such hurry?” 

“ Oh, Mynderse ! ” exclaimed Jonathan as he rec- 
ognized his friend, “where is the colonel? Where 
is he? Take me to him and don’t wait a second.” 

Thus bidden Mynderse instantly turned and 
without asking another question led the way to the 
spot where a few minutes before he had himself 
seen Colonel Gansevoort giving some orders to the 
men who were laboring upon the ditch. To his 
delight he beheld the leader where he had last seen 
him and in a moment the two boys were standing 
before him. 

“What’s wrong?” inquired the colonel quickly, 
as he glanced up and beheld the torn clothing and 
bleeding face and hands of Jonathan. 

“ Oh, Colonel Gansevoort ! ” began Jonathan, for- 
getting for the moment his fear of the officer, 
“ Captain Gregg and Corporal Madison have been 
shot.” 

“What!” exclaimed the colonel. “Where are 
they ? What do you mean ? Speak up, boy, and 
be careful of what you say!” The colonel was 
startled and for a moment he gazed at Jonathan 
with so stern a look that the lad was almost unable 
to proceed with his story. 


THE RETURN TO THE FORT 39 

In a moment, however, he gained sufficient breath 
to enable him to say : “Yes, it’s just as I’m telling 
you. Both the captain and the corporal have been 
shot.” 

“ Where are they ? ” 

“About a mile and a half from here.” 

“What were they doing? ” 

“They went out this morning to shoot pigeons.” 

The colonel’s face darkened for a moment as he 
said, “ Were they alone ? Is there any one with 
them now? ” 

“Yes, my brother David is there. We found 
them, for the captain’s dog led us to the place. 
Dave sent me back to the fort and told me to tell 
you to send a relief party at once. I’m afraid 
they’re both dead, though,” he added sorrowfully. 

Colonel Gansevoort did not delay, but turning 
sharply about he at once ordered a lieutenant and 
a force of fifteen men to follow Jonathan to the 
place where he had reported the fallen officers to 
be. Speedy as were the preparations, by the time 
the band was ready to depart the news of the 
tragedy had spread through the fort and a ringing 
cheer arose from the assembly as the men passed 
into the adjacent forest and disappeared from sight. 

Jonathan was in advance and by his side walked 
Mynderse, who was also to go on the expedition. 
Familiar as the boys were with the woods they had 


40 


THE RETURN TO THE FORT 


no difficulty in finding their way, but no one spoke 
now and all proceeded with caution, holding their 
guns ready for use at any moment. There was no 
disguising the fact that the Indians were hover- 
ing about the region and the fate which had be- 
fallen Captain Gregg and his companion might be a 
common one now. Behind every tree, or crouching 
behind the low bushes, the enemy might be con- 
cealed and at any moment the report of a rifle 
might reveal their hiding-places. For the most 
part the men did not observe an orderly line of 
march and were even following the Indian custom 
of “single file.” In a sense it was every man for 
himself, and we may be sure that in such a time of 
danger a careful lookout was maintained. - 

However, not an enemy was discovered and at 
last the quick, short bark of Stan revealed to the 
anxious Jonathan that they had come near to the 
place he was seeking. In a few moments they 
entered the open space in which David and the 
men had been left, and at the sight which met their 
eyes a low cry escaped the men. 

Captain Gregg was lying with his head upon the 
body of the fallen corporal and David who was 
kneeling by his side did not rise, but glanced up as 
he saw the approaching band, motioning for them 
to be silent. Leaving his men, the lieutenant ad- 
vanced and asked in a low voice, “ Are they dead ? ” 


THE RETURN TO THE FORT 


4 


“ The corporal is, but the captain is not, though 
how he could live through it is more than I can 
understand.” 

“Was it Indians ? ” 

“Yes, the captain has told me about it. They 
hadn’t seen any signs of the redskins and so were 
not on the lookout as they ought to have been. 
They came in here where we are now and without 
a warning two Indians rose from behind those 
bushes yonder and fired upon them. The corporal 
was killed but the captain was only wounded. He 
knew what was likely to happen though, and when 
he saw the two Indians rush in he pretended to be 
dead. The villains used their tomahawks and then 
took the scalps, the captain never once opening his 
eyes or showing that he was alive during the whole 
terrible performance. After they had gone he even 
pulled out his watch to see what time it was, and 
then, fearful that he was going to die, he crawled 
up to the body of the corporal and placing his 
head on it, stretched himself out just as you see 
him now.” 

“Terrible !” whispered the lieutenant, unable to 
repress the expression of horror that crept over his 
face as he glanced down at the captain, who was 
now unconscious. “ How did you hear of it ? 
Where were you ? ” 

“We were over by Wood Creek fishing and the 


42 THE RETURN TO THE FORT 

captain’s dog, Stan, was the one to bring us here. 
He’s almost human, that dog, and deserves the pay 
of a captain himself. Now what are you going to 
do, lieutenant?” 

“ Get these poor fellows back to the fort just as 
fast as we can carry them,” replied the young officer 
quickly, his courage and impulse to act promptly 
returning at the instant. 

Turning to his men, he ordered them to bring 
up the two rude stretchers which had been brought 
from the fort, and tenderly the bodies of the dead 
corporal and the sorely wounded captain were lifted 
and placed upon them and then sadly the little 
band began its return march to Fort Schuyler. 
Two of the soldiers were sent in advance to be on 
the lookout for the appearance of danger, two men 
were stationed on each flank and then two were 
left to bring up the rear and be ready to report if 
any signs of approaching Indians should be discov- 
ered by them. 

Young Jonathan Hardin was assigned to this last 
duty and by his side walked a tall, ungainly man, 
apparently about forty years of age. He had not 
been long in the fort, having come up from Pough- 
keepsie in Captain Swartout’s company, and from 
the first time he had seen him Jonathan had felt an 
instinctive and intense dislike for the man. For 
one reason, he had apparently been everywhere at 


THE RETURN TO THE FORT 


43 


once. No matter when or where the boys had 
been they had seen Samuel Geake, and the ques- 
tions he could ask, David had declared, would 
beat even those of a Connecticut Yankee, which as 
all know was a standard to which few could attain. 
Samuel, or “Sam,” as he was familiarly known in 
the fort, had apparently been one of the most gen- 
erous of the defenders, ever offering to share what 
he had with others ; but to the boys it had seemed 
as if he was tiying too obviously to win their favor 
and confidence, and so, though no one of the three 
could have accounted for his feeling, they all alike 
avoided him. 

But Sam had chosen to ignore the evident dis- 
like, or perhaps had failed to discover it, — Jonathan 
was unable to discover which was correct, — and 
now when the loose-jointed, garrulous man found 
himself walking by the lad, his pleasure was at 
once manifest. 

“’Tis a sad piece of work, Jonathan Hardin,” 
exclaimed Sam, partly closing his eyes as he spoke 
and placing his hands across his body as if he was in 
pain. As Jonathan did not feel called upon to reply 
to the evident truth spoken by his companion, Sam 
glibly, as if he had not noticed the silence of his 
comrade, said : “ I’m told you are the one who in- 
formed Colonel Gansevoort of this sad occurrence? 
Is’t true, Jonathan ? ” 


44 


THE RETURN TO THE FORT 


“Yes.” 

“ What did the colonel say when you told him 
of it?” 

“‘Say’? He didn’t say much of anything. 
He did. Colonel Gansevoort isn’t a man to spend 
his time and breath in idle words, especially if it’s 
only a boy he’s dealing with.” 

“’Tis true as you say, Jonathan. I sometimes 
fancy ’twould be better for the men in Fort Schuy- 
ler if the colonel did more talking.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because we don’t know what is expected of us. 
Do you really think now, that he intends to fortify 
the place and hang on to it?” 

“ My hands look as if he did have some idea of 
making the fort stronger,” replied Jonathan gravely, 
as he glanced at the callous spots in the palms. 

“ All that may be only to keep up appearances. 
I have doubts myself whether the worthy colonel 
intends to try to hold the place after all.” 

“ Why shouldn’t he try? From what we’ve seen 
to-day the old fort appears to be needed. Colonel 
Gansevoort doesn’t run, he doesn’t know how.” 

“ It might be wiser if he did.” 

“ I don’t see what you mean.” 

“Why, what I mean is this: If the reports are 
true that the redskins and the redcoats are to start 
on a march through the valley, it would seem to 


THE RETURN TO THE FORT 


45 


be a foolish risk for the colonel to try to hold Fort 
Schuyler. ’Twould surely fall and he would only 
endanger the lives of us all by his obstinacy.” 

*‘’Tis the kind of obstinacy I like. Some people 
call it bravery,” replied Jonathan, unable to repress 
the sneer that appeared on his face as he spoke. 

“ I wish I knew whether he really intends to try to 
hold it,” resumed Sam, ignoring the words of his 
companion. “Will you tell me, Jonathan, if you 
hear more ? ” 

“Yes. Here we are at the fort now.” 

In a brief time the party entered and their coming 
at once aroused all the men of the garrison. 


CHAPTER V 


THE PRESENCE OF THE ENEMY 

HE attack upon the two officers, who had dis- 



^ regarded, if not disobeyed orders, at once 
convinced the troops at Fort Schuyler that the 
reports of an approach of the combined Indian and 
British forces were but too well founded. The man- 
ner in which the corporal had been slain and the 
captain so terribly wounded was proof sufficient 
that Indians were prowling near, and the immediate 
measures which Colonel Gansevoort adopted to 
strengthen the defenses met the approval of all, for 
the men as well as the leaders were too well in- 
formed as to the weakness of the garrison now to 
make any protest. Provisions were scarce and 
some of the men were already suffering from the 
lack of food. Ammunition was also lacking and 
this, together with the weakness of the fort, com- 
bined to increase the alarm still more. 

One source of comfort had been gained in the 
timely arrival of Colonel Marinus Willett and his 
regiment, that had marched up from Fort Consti- 
tution, on the Hudson, to assist in the defense of 
Fort Schuyler. No one knew better than did 


THE PRESENCE OF THE ENEMY 47 

Colonel Gansevoort how much the coming of Colo- 
nel Willett added to his strength. If before he had 
hesitated about defending the place, the coming of 
his new aid speedily banished all such thoughts 
and the two men made a pair such as is seldom 
seen. 

Colonel Willett was an enthusiastic and daring 
soldier, and this summer of 1777 was by no means 
the first of his visits to Fort Schuyler. He had 
served under Abercrombie in the disastrous battle 
at Ticonderoga and afterward had gone with Brad- 
street in the expedition against Fort Frontenac. 
The exposure and suffering in that march had made 
the young officer ill, and for a long time he had 
remained in old Fort Stanwix waiting for his health 
to be restored. When the troubles arose with 
Great Britain he had been among the first to enter 
the service of the Colonies and his faithful work had 
brought him a steady promotion until now he was 
a lieutenant-colonel. He was a large man, pos- 
rsessed of great physical strength and courage, and 
in his younger days, though at this time he was but 
thirty-seven years of age, had been ever ready to 
enter into the “rough-and-tumble” contests in 
which the pioneer soldiers took such delight. The 
features of his face were large and were usually 
lighted up by a smile that was winning and gentle 
save when the fever of carnage was upon him and 


48 THE PRESENCE OF THE ENEMY 

then he became terrible in his wrath. The coming 
of such a man, with a band of soldiers enthusiasti- 
cally devoted to their leader, naturally increased 
the Zeal and determination of the little garrison at 
Fort Schuyler. That the confidence of the men 
was not misplaced we shall learn later on. ^ 

One of the sources of greatest alarm in the fort, 
when the little band of soldiers returned with the 
wounded Captain Gregg and the body of his dead 
companion, was the fear that the Oneida Indians, 
who had given many assurances of their friendship, 
had at last been influenced by the other tribes of 
the Six Nations (though the Oneidas still proudly 
referred to themselves by that title) and had cast 
in their lot with the Indians who were supposed to 
be advancing with St. Leger. As they were the 
nearest of the tribes to Fort Schuyler the suspicion 
was only natural that they had been concerned in 
the attack upon the two men, and when, a day or 
two afterward, a deputation from the Oneidas en- 
tered the fort their coming created the greatest in- 
terest. It was speedily learned, however, that their 
errand was a friendly one and that they had come 
expressly to disclaim any share in the sad work. 

Colonel Gansevoort listened attentively to the 
explanation they gave and then replied in an ad- 
dress the words of which have been recorded and 
have come down to us : 


THE PRESENCE OF THE ENEMY 49 

Brother Warriors of the Six Nations : I thank 
you for your good talk. 

Brothers : You tell us you are sorry for the 
cruel usage of Captain Gregg and the murder 
of one of our warriors ; that you would have im- 
ynediately pursued the murderers had not General 
Schuyler, General Gates, and the French general 
desired you not to take any part in the war ; and 
that you have obeyed their orders and are resolved 
to do so. I commend your good inclination and 
intention. 

Brothers : You say you have sent a runner to 
the Six Nations to inform them of what has hap- 
pened, and that you expect some of your chiefs 
will look into the affair and tiy to find out the mur- 
derers. You have done well. I shall be glad to 
smoke a pipe with your chiefs and hope they will 
do as they speak. 

Brothers : I hope the mischief has been done, 
not by any of our good friends of the Oneida na- 
tion, but by the Tories, who are enemies to you as 
well as to us, and who are ready to murder your- 
selves, your wives, and children if you will not be as 
wicked as themselves. 

Brothers : When your chiefs shall convince me 
that Indians of the Six Nations have had no hand 
in this wicked thing, and shall use means to find 
out the murderers and bring them to justice, you 
may be assured that we will strengthen the chain 
of friendship and embrace you as our good brothers. 
I will not suffer any of our warriors to hurt you. 

Apparently satisfied, the Indians departed and 

D 


50 THE PRESENCE OF THE ENEMY 

Jonathan, who was doing sentry duty that after- 
noon, watched them curiously as long as he could 
discern their tall forms in the forest. The young 
soldier paced thoughtfully back and forth on his 
beat, thinking of the misfortune which had come 
upon Captain Gregg and wondrously thankful that 
he and his brother David had escaped as they had. 
The one lesson would be sufficient, he thought, 
and not soon would he venture from the fort again, 
though in the excitement of the time his own dis- 
obedience of orders had apparently been unnoticed, 
for no one had thought to inquire as to how it was 
that the boys had been in the forest and had been 
the first to discover the sad plight of the captain. 

By this time the Indian messengers had long 
since disappeared and Jonathan glanced at the sun 
to learn how much longer ^ must remain on duty 
before he would be relieved. It was tedious work, 
this marching back and forth with a heavy musket 
over his shoulder, and not even the fear of prowling 
enemies afforded any relief. 

Just then the captain’s dog approached him and 
with many demonstrations of his delight - prepared 
to accompany the lad on his vigils. Grateful even 
for the company of the dog, Jonathan stooped for 
a moment to pat his head, but stood quickly erect 
when Stan emitted a low growl and with bristling 
hair stood gazing out into the forest. 


THE PRESENCE OF THE ENEMY 51 

Startled by the action, Jonathan turned sharply 
about, but not a sign of danger could he discover. 
The great silent forest was unbroken and not a 
sound rose upon the summer air to indicate that 
Stan had discovered anything unseen by the young 
soldier. 

A moment later, however, Jonathan perceived 
that the dog had been wiser than he, for approach- 
ing the fort from the woods he saw a little girl. 
A basket was in her hands and she was scream- 
ing as she ran, while on her neck the lad even in 
the distance could perceive the stain which indi- 
cated that she had been wounded. 

Instantly lifting his musket Jonathan discharged 
it into the air and then with Stan by his side ran 
toward the struggling child. In a few moments he 
had lifted her in his arms and was running swiftly 
back to the fort. It seemed to him that he was 
being pursued by invisible enemies and that every 
bush and tree concealed an Indian. Still he ran 
•^desperately forward, stumbling, almost falling, and 
yet all the time clinging to his burden and striving 
to hush the cries of the wounded and frightened 
child. 

Before he entered the fort he discovered Colonel 
Willett and a band setting forth to meet him and 
in the feeling of relief which came over him at the 
sight he almost ceased to run and waited for his 


52 THE PRESENCE OF THE ENEMY 

friends to come nearer. In a moment the soldiers 
were about him and Colonel Willett had taken the 
little girl in his own arms as he ordered his compan- 
ions to return to the fort at once. 

From the weeping child, who though wounded 
was not badly hurt, the colonel learned that she 
with two other girls had a brief time before gone 
from the fort to pick some of the berries which 
grew abundantly in the near-by woods. They had 
not gone more than two hundred yards away, for 
the orders had been strict and they had no inclina- 
tion to disobey ; but near as they were to the gar- 
rison they had been fired upon by Indians and she 
was the only one to escape, for her two companions 
had fallen. 

When the bodies of the two children were soon 
afterward brought into the fort the excitement of 
the men became intense. The Indians were assem- 
bling, that was apparent ; and what the little gar- 
rison, poorly equipped for defense and still more 
poorly provided with the means for withstanding a 
siege, could do, became a question no one cared to 
answer. 

Colonel Gansevoort, however, wasted no time in 
idle speculations. Immediately the tasks of the 
men were increased and arrangements were made 
for the work of strengthening the defenses, a labor 
which now was to be continued night and day. 


THE PRESENCE OF THE ENEMY 


53 


It was in accordance with this new plan that 
Ensign Sporr, with a band of privates, was sent on 
the following day to cut some turf in the forest. 
Among those who were selected for this duty were 
Jonathan and Mynderse, and much to their disgust 
they discovered that Sam Geake was also to be one 
of their number. The fear of an attack was too 
strong, however, for them to protest, and apparently 
unmindful of their dislike, Sam began to work by 
the side of the two boys, when at a distance of 
three-quarters of a mile from the fort the ensign 
halted and ordered the men at once to begin to cut 
the heavy turf which he had there discovered. 

The failure to discover any signs of the presence 
of Indians had in a measure restored the feeling of 
confidence and after a time the men began to talk 
in low tones as they labored. 

One of those girls killed yesterday,” said Myn- 
derse, ^‘was Katy Steese ; you know she has lived 
in my uncle’s family ever since she was born.” 

I can imagine how furious Captain Roof is,” 
' replied Jonathan. 

“ Furious ? That isn’t the word.” 

“These Oneidas are treacherous fellows,” sug- 
gested Sam. 

“The captain, my uncle, doesn’t believe it was 
the Oneidas.” 

“What!” exclaimed Sam quickly and in ap- 


54 the presence of the enemy 

parent surprise. “Who was it then, I’d like to 
know?” 

“ Captain Roof thinks Cornplanter could tell, if 
he wanted to.” 

“Who? Red Jacket?” 

“ Yes.” 

“That can’t be, for he isn’t anywhere near here.” 

Mynderse made no response but still continued 
to cut the turf, the piles of which were now steadily 
increasing. The men were all working rapidly, for 
in spite of the fact that they had not seen an In- 
dian they were none the less eager to be back with 
their companions. Fort Schuyler might not be a 
very secure place, but at least it was safer than the 
open forest. 

So the men all toiled steadily and the amount 
of turf cut was soon almost sufficient. Jonathan 
repeatedly looked at the ensign to see whether he 
was not about to give the order for their return, 
but as yet the leader had not spoken. 

Suddenly the lad looked up and discovered Sam 
Geake peering eagerly into the woods. The ex- 
pression upon his face caused Jonathan to pause 
for a moment in his work and follow the look. 
The sight which he saw drove the blood from his 
face and for a moment it seemed to him that his 
heart had ceased to beat. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE SEARCHING PARTY 

N ot far away and crouching beside a clump of 
bushes Jonathan had seen an Indian with 
his gun raised to his shoulder and even at that very 
moment in the act of firing. Almost fascinated by 
the sight for an instant, the terrified lad had been 
speechless. He was speedily recalled, however, 
by the act of Sam Geake who clutched him by the 
shoulder and said quickly : 

“Throw yourself on the ground, Jonathan. 
Quick ! Don’t wait a minute ! ” 

As Sam himself instantly did what he had sug- 
gested, the young soldier by his side followed his 
example, but as he threw himself forward, in one 
loud cry he warned his companions of their danger. 
“Look out! Look out!” he shouted. “The 

redskins are here ! Look ” 

The startled men had turned at the cry, but be- 
fore the words were completed a sharp report was 
heard which seemed to come from every side. For 
a moment there was a silence as of the grave itself 
and then such cries and shouts arose as Jonathan 
had never heard before. 


55 


56 


THE SEARCHING PARTY 


To his startled vision the woods seemed to be 
filled with the Indians. He was dimly aware that 
one or two of the soldiers had fallen, and then he 
was recalled to himself by the words of Sam Geake, 
who in a loud whisper said to him : 

Run, boy ! Run for your life ! ” 

Leaping to his feet, Jonathan started swiftly to- 
ward the fort, gun and spade and turf being all for- 
gotten in the one mad desire to gain the shelter of 
Fort Schuyler. His very fear increased the num- 
ber of his foes, but unmindful of all save his own 
personal safety the young soldier ran on, leaping 
over the fallen logs and plunging through the 
bushes as if he was unmindful of their existence. 
Behind him and on both sides he could hear the 
men rushing through the forest, while not far away 
the shrill cries of the Indian warriors could also still 
be heard. 

Jonathan Hardin had ever been fleet of foot, but 
never before had he sped over the ground as he did 
on that day in July, 1777. Unmindful even of 
Mynderse or his friends, he was possessed with the 
one mad desire to escape from the forest, peopled 
with savages, as to his excited imagination it seemed 
to be. Even when he had passed beyond the sound 
of the whoops and cries, his speed was not abated, 
and when after a brief time he saw before him the 
rude defenses of Fort Schuyler, he still continued 


THE SEARCHING PARTY 5/ 

to run as if the enemy was pursuing close upon his 
heels. 

He was the first to gain the refuge, though as he 
entered he saw that some of his recent comrades 
were close behind him. Still others came pressing 
their way into the fort, hatless, breathless, and with- 
out guns or weapon of any kind. But Jonathan 
was already telling his story to Colonel Willett, 
whom he was the first to meet, and as the excited 
young soldier poured forth his tale his words were 
corroborated by the other men who entered at 
about the same time. 

The shame and silence which fell over all when, 
a brief time afterward, four men came bearing with 
them two of their wounded comrades may well be 
imagined. In the terror which the sudden attack 
had inspired, most of the men had thought only of 
themselves, and unmindful of all others had started 
swiftly to gain the safety and shelter of the fort. 

Colonel Willett, however, speedily gave orders 
for the care of the wounded men and then turning 
to those who had returned unharmed said sternly : 
“ How many men are still missing? ” 

As no one could reply, an investigation was 
quickly made and it was discovered that Ensign 
Sporr and six of the privates had not been found. 
As it was known that the sudden attack had not 
been without its results — the two wounded soldiers 


58 


THE SEARCHING PARTY 


who had been brought back could testify as to the 
truthfulness of that — the wrath of the colonel 
seemed for a moment to pass all bounds. 

“And you left your friends there to the mercy 
of those wretches ! ” he exclaimed with intense 
scorn in his words. “ Perhaps they too were only 
wounded. And there may not have been a half- 
dozen of the redskins. A fine and brave lot ye 
are. I almost wish I had remained at old Fort 
Constitution, for at least the soldiers there were 
not a parcel of cowards.” 

“ But, colonel,” protested one of the men feebly, 
“the woods were full of ’em. There were white 
men there too ! ” 

“ What ! Do you know whereof ye speak ? ” he 
demanded sharply. 

The claim of the soldier was supported by sev- 
eral of his companions, who also declared they had 
seen at least two white men in the attacking party, 
and one declared he had seen more than that. 

“ I don’t believe ye know the difference between a 
birch stump and a gun,” retorted the colonel sharply. 
“ Perhaps ’twas but the reflection of your own 
white livers. To leave seven of your men wounded 
or dead, or it may be as prisoners, which is still 
worse ! If I served ye right I should order ye all 
to be whipped out of the fort. If there were any 
whites,” he added more quietly, “’twill but show 


THE SEARCHING PARTY 59 

that ’twas some of Butler’s doings. Now, men, 
we must go forth at once to their aid. Why do 
you stand around here wasting your time in sense- 
less, useless talk? You’re but like to a parcel of 
silly girls or babbling old women. Why do you 
stand here, I say, doing nothing but talk ? ” 

“We’ll not stand here long if you will lead us, 
colonel,” exclaimed one of the men tartly. 

“ Lead you ? Of course I will lead you, though 
do you see that you follow ; I have' fears for you 
all.” 

To the credit of the men who had fled to the 
fort, every one was now eager to return. Two 
forces were speedily formed and departed from 
Fort Schuyler to the scene of the attack. In the 
band led by Colonel Willett marched Jonathan 
Hardin with David, his brother, by his side. 

No one had felt the biting words of the colonel 
more than had Jonathan, and now the lad was 
eager to return and show that his fear had been 
but a momentary attack. Another reason which 
strongly influenced him had been the discov- 
ery that neither Mynderse nor Sam Geake had 
been among those who had returned to the fort. 
For the latter he had no great feeling of anxiety, 
for as we already know, he had never been strongly 
drawn to him ; but for Mynderse, his long-time 
friend, his sorrow was keen. Again and again he 


6o 


THE SEARCHING PARTY 


blamed himself for having deserted his comrade, 
and as he moved steadily forward with the band his 
anxiety increased. Doubtless the lad had fallen in 
the first fire, he thought, and he was picturing to 
himself the feeling he would have when his mangled 
body should be found. 

He did not speak, however, and in silence the 
band advanced swiftly toward the fatal spot where 
the turf had been cut. Even Colonel Willett had 
no words of reproof to utter now and that doughty 
warrior must have been well content with the spirit 
of determination manifested by all his followers. 

Swiftly, silently, steadily the band advanced ; 
but when at last they arrived at the place they 
were seeking, they had not been molested on their 
way nor had they discovered the presence of any 
lurking Indians. A hasty search was then made 
for the bodies of their fallen comrades, but only one 
was discovered. 

When this was found, and it was known that no 
others were there. Colonel Willett assembled his 
men and said : 

“ Ensign Sporr and the half-dozen men who are 
missing have without doubt been carried away as 
prisoners. What shall we do? Shall we go in 
pursuit, or now that we know what the outcome of 
the attack was, shall we go back to the fort? ” 

With one accord the men all declared themselves 


THE SEARCHING PARTY 6 1 

in favor of a further effort to find their missing com- 
rades. As the colonel himself was also strongly in 
favor of the attempt, the men were divided into a 
number of smaller bands, and after signals had 
been agreed upon and it was understood that all 
were to return to Fort Schuyler by sunset, they 
speedily vanished from the sight of one another 
within the sombre shadows of the forest. 

All through the hours of the long summer after- 
noon the search was maintained, but when at last 
the shadows of evening fell and they returned to 
the fort, not one of the bands was able to report 
having discovered any traces of the missing men or 
of the presence of the enemy. 

The depression in the little garrison now became 
more and more marked. Provisions were scarce 
and likely to become scarcer before fresh supplies 
could be gained. In spite of all their efforts the 
defenses were still feeble, too feeble, many of the 
men thought, to withstand an onslaught. 

None of the men and but few of the officers 
knew of the letter which Colonel Gansevoort sent 
by a messenger to General Schuyler, begging for 
assistance in men, amunition, and supplies. The 
task of increasing the strength of the defenses had 
been in charge of a Frenchman named Captain 
Marquizee, and though Colonel Gansevoort already 
had begun to suspect both the ability and the relia- 


62 THE SEARCHING PARTY 

bility of the man, not a word of complaint did he 
offer. Although he declared as his positive convic- 
tion that with the supplies they then had the gar- 
rison could not hold out more than six weeks longer 
he gave no signs of weakness or faltering on his own 
part. Indeed, after explaining that the supply of 
powder was very low, that the bullets did not fit 
many of the guns, he wrote : 

We will, notwithstanding every difficulty, exert 
ourselves to the utmost of our power ; and if your 
excellency will be pleased to order a speedy re- 
enforcement, with a sufficient supply of provisions 
and ammunition to enable us to hold out a siege, 
we will, I hope, by the blessing of God, be able to 
give a good account of any force that will probably 
come against us. 

Poor General Schuyler ! How his heart must 
have ached when he received the letter of Colo- 
nel Gansevoort, and most of all because he found 
himself practically unable to aid, for his own fortunes 
were in a wretched state at the very time when he 
received the messenger. 

Meanwhile, David and Jonathan Hardin were 
sorrowing more over the sad fate which they feared 
had befallen their friend Mynderse. Of the wants 
of the garrison they only partly knew', but of the 
absence of Mynderse they had full knowledge. 
Many an hour after the hard labors of the day 


THE SEARCHING PARTY 


63 


were ended, did they spend in talking over the 
fortunes of their absent friend. Mynderse’s uncle, 
Captain Roof, was decidedly of the opinion that 
the lad had fallen and that no word from him 
would ever be received. The loss of his nephew, 
in addition to that of the little girl who had all her 
life been a member of his household, made the 
sturdy Dutch captain more determined than ever 
he had been, which is saying much, as all who 
knew him would testify, if it was within their power. 

However, word was to be received concerning 
the fate of Mynderse, and the manner in which it 
came, as well as the information itself, was not such 
as to quiet the fears of the boys or allay the alarm 
of the garrison. 


CHAPTER VII 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 

HREE days had passed after the disastrous 



attempt of Ensign Sporr to secure turf for 
the fort and as yet nothing had been learned con- 
cerning the fate of the missing men. On the morn- 
ing of the fourth day young Jonathan Hardin was 
once more doing duty as sentry, but as he paced 
back and forth on his beat his thoughts were far more 
of Mynderse than they were of the particular task 
which was his at the time. The tall young soldier 
plainly showed the effect of the strain and anxiety 
under which all the men in Fort Schuyler were 
laboring. His black eyes and quick, energetic move- 
ments were the same, but on his face there was an 
expression which seemed sadly out of place in one 
who ordinarily was so full of animation and so ready 
to see the ridiculous side of every event. From time 
to time he glanced at the near-by forest as if he 
was half fearful that forth from the midst of the 
great trees he might see a band of the Indians or 
redcoats rushing upon the little garrison. Now 
that the fear of an attack was no longer laughed at 
by any of the men, there came also an anxiety that 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 


65 


did not depart day or night, and every man was 
watchful of the sombre forest, no matter what his 
particular task at the moment might be. 

But the forest guarded its secret well, if a secret it 
held. The warm summer sun was shining brightly 
and the dark green leaves shimmered as they nod- 
ded before the gentle breeze. The sound of the 
locust or the clear calls of the birds in the distance 
alone broke in upon the stillness outside the fort, 
though from within came the noise of the men as 
they labored at their task of strengthening its feeble 
defenses, and occasionally the voice of an officer 
giving some order to the toilers could be heard. 

The day was excessively warm and the bright 
blue of the sky was broken only here and there by 
an occasional mass of gray-colored cloud which 
chiefly served to increase the heat felt by the young 
sentry. Near the ground as he looked toward the 
forest he could perceive a quivering of the air as it 
rose from the overheated spots of bare sand. It 
was now near midday and frequently Jonathan 
glanced at the sun, thinking that somehow the 
great red ball of fire was stopping on its march 
through the heavens just to tantalize the impatient 
young sentry, who well knew he would not be re- 
lieved before noon, and as the time drew nearer, 
the moments dragged more slowly, or so at least it 
seemed to the impatient boy. 

E 


66 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 


“ This is the worst yet,” he muttered as he paused 
for a moment to wipe his dripping face. “I’d 

rather work in the trenches than ” He paused 

abruptly, for just at that moment he discovered 
some one approaching from the forest. Trenches 
and heat were alike instantly forgotten as he held 
his gun in readiness and watched the advance of 
the stranger. Satisfied soon that the man was 
alone, or rather that he was approaching alone, 
Jonathan, more calm now, also perceived that he 
was a white man, and that he was unarmed. The 
stranger was running swiftly, and as he came nearer 
it also became evident that he was hatless and that 
his clothing was torn. His bearing also indicated 
that he was in great fear, for in spite of the swift- 
ness with which he was approaching he frequently 
glanced back over his shoulder as if he saw some 
one behind him of whom he was afraid. 

Still Jonathan could not perceive that the man 
was pursued, and grasping his gun more tightly he 
was about to hail the stranger, when to his utmost 
astonishment he perceived that the man was none 
other than Sam Geake himself Startled as he was, 
it was nevertheless with a feeling of relief that he 
recognized Sam, for one at least of the missing men 
was thereby accounted for, and doubtless he would 
know something of the fate of Mynderse and the 
others. 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 


67 


“Is that you, Sam?” called the sentry sharply. 

“Yes, yes!” replied Sam as he recognized Jon- 
athan. “ The garrison is still here, I see. Let me 
in ; I want to see the colonel.” 

Sam spoke with difficulty for he was almost 
breathless from his exertions or fear, Jonathan could 
not decide which, but he was determined to learn 
something concerning his missing friend and so, 
before he permitted the man to pass he said : 

“ Where’s Mynderse ? Do you know where he 
is? Is he all right? Did he fall?” 

“ Mynderse is safe, or he was a little while ago. 
Don’t keep me a minute, Jonathan. Let me in. 
Let me in I I must see the colonel. I’ll see you 
afterward and tell you all about it.” 

Reluctantly Jonathan permitted the man to en- 
ter, but he was so excited by the words he had 
heard, as well as by the unexpected approach of 
Sam Geake, that the discomfort of the day and his 
recent impatience were forgotten, and he began to 
pace swiftly back and forth upon his beat almost 
as if he were engaged in a race of some kind. He 
did not forget, however, to keep a careful watch 
upon the woods from which Sam had emerged, half 
fearful and half expecting to see a band of pursuers 
sally forth at any moment. 

Somehow the time passed, and at noon the young 
sentry was relieved. Running swiftly to the quar- 


68 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 


ters he occupied with his brother he found David 
there, but it was evident in a moment that he had 
not heard of the arrival of Sam Geake. 

“ I say, Dave,” exclaimed the eager young sol- 
dier, “did you know that Sam had come back?” 

“What?” 

“Yes, sir. It’s as true as the dominie’s preach- 
ing and a sight more interesting. Sam Geake is 
here, right here in Fort Schuyler. I know it, for I 
saw him with my own eyes.” 

“When did he come?” inquired David calmly, 
though in spite of his more sedate manner his 
brother could see that he was deeply interested. 

“ About half an hour ago, or a minute, or three 
hours. I don’t know how long ago it was. I only 
know he’s here, and what’s more, he says Mynderse 
is safe.” 

“ Did he say that? ” 

“Yes, that is, I think so. I don’t know just 
what he did say.” 

“ Now, Jonathan, keep still a minute,” said David. 
“You’re so excited you don’t know what you are 
about. Now just what was it that Sam said to you 
about Mynderse ? ” 

“ He’ll tell you himself,” said Sam, at that mo- 
ment entering, and having overheard the words of 
David. “ Mynderse is all right, or he was when I 
left him about two hours ago.” 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 


69 


“Where did you leave him? And he wasn’t 
shot after all? Tell us all about it,” exclaimed 
Jonathan eagerly. 

“ He’ll tell us if you’ll keep still long enough to 
give him a chance,” said David. “Now, Jonathan, 
see if you can’t keep from talking for a minute.” 

“You think I’m a great talker, don’t you?” re- 
torted Jonathan. “ I’d like to know who it is that 
takes all the time telling other fellows to be still. 
You seem to think just because you are two years 
older ” 

But Jonathan suddenly ceased, for with a laugh 
his big brother clapped his hand over the lad’s 
mouth and the eager young soldier subsided. 

“Yes,” began Sam slowly and with a most pro- 
voking drawl, “ Mynderse is all right. Ye see, 
when we were out there cutting the turf that day, — 
which was a foul piece of business, as I told the 
ensign afore we left the fort, — no one but me seemed 
to think that redskins were in this part of the world. 
I knew they were, though, and so I kept one eye 
on my spade and one on the woods.” 

“I didn’t know before that you were cross- 
eyed,” interrupted Jonathan. “Tell us about 
Mynderse.” 

“That’s what I’m a doin’,” said Sam. “Well, 
when they swooped down on us like a hen-hawk on 
a young turkey, I was ready for ’em, and I called to 


70 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 


you and Mynderse to follow me and Td lead you 
all right. Mynderse followed all right enough, but 
you, Jonathan, you jest ran for the fort.” 

“Where else did you expect me to run? To- 
ward the Indians?” inquired Jonathan. 

Ignoring the interruption, Sam continued : “We 
got a good start and we’d have got away all right, 
only we ran right into a dozen of ’em and the only 
thing we could do was to give up. If I’d been 
alone I’d have fought my way through, but seein’ 
as how Mynderse was with me and he bein’ only a 
boy, same as Jonathan here is, why I knew ’twould 
be temptin’ Providence, so I give right up.” 

“What made you run toward the Indians, Sam ? ” 
inquired David quietly. 

“Hey?” replied Sam, glancing keenly at David. 
“ It didn’t make much difference where ye ran ; 
there were the varmints afore ye jest the same.” 

“We didn’t find any in our way,” suggested 
Jonathan. 

“’Twas luck, just pure luck, that’s all it was.” 

“Well, go on, Sam. Tell us about Mynderse,” 
said Jonathan eagerly. 

“ Isn’t that just what I am a doin’ ? Only you 
keep a interruptin’ me. They took us, six of u.s, 
and tied our hands behind our backs.” 

“ Did they tie yours ? ” inquired David. 

“ Me ? Why, no, that is — ^yes they did, in course 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 7 1 

they did. They tied mine tighter’ n any of ’em ; 
but they was afraid somebody would come from 
the fort, an’ so they made off in a hurry, takin’ us 
six prisoners with ’em. We hadn’t gone very far 
afore we struck more than a thousand o’ them var- 
mints. Yes, sir, they’re thicker’ n flies in a cow stable, 
that’s what they are. They’re swarmin’ like bees 
around this old fort and it’s my ’pinion they’ll light 
pretty quick. Then what’s to become o’ Fort 
Schuyler, I’d like to know? What earthly sense 
there is in hangin’ on to this place and exposin’ 
every man to certain death is what I can’t under- 
stand. Colonel Gansevoort will have to answer for 
it some day, that’s what he will, if he doesn’t come 
to his senses and listen to the words I’m speakin’ 
in his ears.” 

“You’ve forgotten about Mynderse,” said David, 
apparently unmoved by the dire forebodings. “ Tell 
us where he is and how you got away.” 

“ Why, Mynderse is shut up in a tent about five 
miles from here, along with the other four men, an’ 
I jest ran away this mornin’. They were all after 
me, and kept a shootin’, but I’m here, you see.” 

“Yes, I see,” said David dryly. “ I think we’ll 
have something to eat now,” and without waiting 
to hear more, he abruptly rose and departed, an 
example which Jonathan and Sam speedily fol- 
lowed. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE RACE TO THE FORT 


HE loquacity of Sam Geake was not to be 



^ checked even by the scanty meal which was 
speedily prepared, and he still continued to talk, 
dwelling much upon the numbers and strength of 
their foes, and the hopelessness as well as the folly 
of Colonel Gansevoort in attempting to hold Fort 
Schuyler in the face of such overwhelming odds. 
That his dire forebodings were not without effect 
upon his hearers was speedily evident. Jonathan, 
his face betraying his uneasiness, plied Sam with 
many questions ; but David for the most part 
remained silent, though he keenly regarded the 
loquacious narrator as he spoke. Perhaps the 
young soldier was inclined to doubt some of the 
statements that Sam made or was moved by another 
and an entirely different feeling. Be that as it may, 
Sam to all appearances was unmindful of David’s 
silence and readily responded to the appeal of Jon- 
athan to explain more fully what he had ex- 
perienced and what he had learned in the period 
of his brief captivity. 

Perhaps if the two boys had been aware that 
72 


THE RACE TO THE FORT 


73 


even at that very time the advance of General John 
Burgoyne had so far been successful that the old 
fort at Ticonderoga was already in his possession 
and that the American forces were retreating and 
in .reality in greater danger from the foes within 
than they were from those without, their minds 
would have been still more unsettled by the words 
of Sam Geake. But while ignorance may not be 
bliss, though some have strongly declared the old 
proverb to be true, the lack of knowledge at this 
time was doubtless a good thing for the inmates of 
Fort Schuyler and tended to keep up their hearts 
and strengthen their determination to hold the 
place as long as It lay within their power to do so. 

“Fm tellin’ ye it’s true, this story about a lot o’ 
the Britishers cornin’ up from Oswego and sweepin’ 
on down through the valley to Albany. There was 
some white men with the Indians that took me 
and Mynderse, and they told me all about it. I 
shouldn’t be a bit surprised if the advance got 
here ’most any time now.” 

“We’ll be here to meet them, if the colonel says 
so,” said David quietly. 

“ That sounds all right, but for one I think Colo- 
nel Gansevoort is nothin’ more nor less than an 
obstinate, pig-headed old Dutchman. Doesn’t he 
know how most every settlement hereabouts has 
been attacked by Brant or some o’ the tribes? 


74 


THE RACE TO THE FORT 


And now Brant is with the British and is a comin 
straight for this ’ere fort. I don’t like it myself, 
though in course I’m not afraid, for ’tisn’t the first 
time I’ve smelt o’ powder.” 

“Are you sure Brant is near here now?” in- 
quired Jonathan nervously. 

“ Sure? Well I should say I was. He’ll be the 
first redskin we’ll see afore the so-called walls o’ 
this fort.” 

“ Did you see him?” asked David. 

“I have seen him lots o’ -times,” replied Sam 
evasively. “ Why, I used to know him when he and 
his mother and sister came back here to live after 
his father died, for I suppose you know his father 
died over in the Ohio country somewhere. He 
was a terror, his father was. I’m tellin’ ye.” 

“Not worse than his son?” suggested Jonathan. 

“ No, no. Nothin’ could be worse than this son 
o’ his, Brant’s Joseph, or Joseph Brant, as some 
call him, though his real name is Thayendanegea, 
for he’s been eddicated, and a eddicated redskin is 
ten times worse than any other. I s’ pose ye know 
that Sir William Johnson sent young Brant down to 
Lebanon,^ which same is in Connecticut, to Doctor 
Wheelock’s school there, don’t ye? Well,’ twas a 
big mistake, for a redskin with book lamin’ is a 
dangerous bird. I can’t write my own name, and 


' Columbia. 


THE RACE TO THE FORT 


75 


just look at me ! Then to think o’ that Mohawk 
bein’ sent down there to school ! That’s what 
beats me.” 

The name of Brant or Thayendanegea was not 
one to inspire confidence in the hearts of Sam’s 
listeners. The stories of his bravery and devotion 
to the cause of his tribe and people were well known 
by all the settlers in the Mohawk Valley and were 
viewed in a far different light from what they are 
to-day. Now we look upon him as somewhat of a 
patriot, misguided perhaps, but nevertheless true 
in his feeling of devotion to the cause of the In- 
dians. He had seen the tribes losing their lands 
and the steady encroachments of the settlers ; and 
perhaps in sheer desperation he entered into the 
struggle when the Revolution broke out, hoping by 
siding with the British to keep back the people of 
the Colonies. Though at this time he was but 
thirty-five years of age he had secured a very strong 
hold upon all his people. He had been, as Sam 
had said, educated in the schools of the white men, 
and for several years had served as a missionary 
interpreter and was deeply interested in the re- 
ligious instruction of his people. 

In his personal life and habits he differed widely 
from Corn plan ter (Red Jacket), who has already 
been mentioned, for even at this time the latter 
young Indian leader was addicted to the firewater 


76 


THE RACE TO THE FORT 


of the whites. He also sturdily and steadily, to the 
end of his days, resisted the efforts of the mission- 
aries and was resolved to live and die, as he did, in 
the faith taught him by his fathers. 

“ What do they mean when they speak of Brant 
as one of the Wolf tribe ? ” inquired Jonathan, whose 
thoughts were not easily turned aside, now that he 
had had the Indian leader brought so forcefully be- 
fore him. 

“Why, his father, Tehowaghwengaraghkwin, was 
an Onondaga and a chief of the Wolf tribe of the 
Mohawks, as I thought everybody knew.” 

“I don’t understand it at all,” persisted Jona- 
than. “You say he was an Onondaga and a Mo- 
hawk and a Wolf. I don’t see how he could be.” 

“ Nothin’ plainer than that. Ye see each one of 
the Six Nations is divided into three tribes anyway, 
and some say into eight. The Mohawks only has 
three, — the Turtle, the Bear, and the Wolf, though 
I know what I’m sayin’ when I tell ye that some 
o’ the others had those three, and also the Crane, 
Snipe, Hawk, Beaver, and Deer besides. It’s a sort 
o’ order o’ rank, I take it, somethin’ the same as 
they has in England, where there’s the king and the 
dooks, an’ the and so forth. So, ye see, ’twas very 
natural like that Brant’s Joseph should belong to 
three different kinds, though he was one and the 
same redskin all the time. See it now, don’t ye? 


THE RACE TO THE FORT 77 

Me an’ Brant is the same age, jest thirty-five years 
old to a day.” 

“ You and Brant are such good friends that he 
won’t hurt you when he takes Fort Schuyler,” sug- 
gested David. 

Sam Geake looked up quickly at the words, but 
David’s face was expressionless, and Jonathan was 
too busily occupied with his own thoughts to give 
much heed to either of his companions at the mo- 
ment. Apparently relieved by the absence of some- 
thing, the fear of which had alarmed him, Sam said : 

“I’m thinkin’ I’d be the first one to lose his 
scalp, for it’s the same with redskins as it is with 
crazy people, — they turn against those they’ve 
thought the most of No, it isn’t because I’m 
scared for myself, though,” he added thoughtfully. 
“It’s because I’m afraid for the fort. The colonel 
is set on holdin’ it, or tryin’ to hold it, which is 
much the same, accordin’ to his way o’ thinkin’ ; but 
when you stop to think o’ Brant and Cornplanter 
and all the Mohawks they’ve got with ’em, and 
this Saint somebody who is cornin’ up from Oswego 
with hundreds and thousands of the British redcoat 
regulars, why it seems to be only a parcel o’ foolish-' 
ness not to clear out and leave the whole thing 
while it can be done. But then it’s his lookout an’ 
not mine. I’m thankful to say.” 

“ Yes it’s his lookout and yours and mine and 


78 


THE RACE TO THE FORT 


every one’s in Fort Schuyler, and it’s time we were 
at work with the men in the ditch. Get your 
shovels and come on,” said David. 

The trio at once arose and prepared to join the 
men who were working in the ditch. Shouldering 
their shovels they started toward the gate, but on 
their way they were met by one of the young lieu- 
tenants of the company to which they belonged, 
who stopped them and said : 

“Going to work on the ditch, boys? ” 

“Yes,” said David, “ the work needs to be pushed, 
if what Sam here says is true.” 

“That’s what we want to find out,” said the 
officer. “The colonel told me to take a squad 
and go out and look for signs of the redskins. I 
wish you would all three come along.” 

Discipline in the old fort, though strict in its way, 
was without much of the formality of these later 
days and the young lieutenant was talking much 
as if there was no difference between his rank and 
that of his hearers. His words found a quick re- 
sponse, however, for the labor in the ditch, though 
necessary, was hard, and to Jonathan particularly 
the prospect of shouldering a gun and scouring the 
woods in search of Indians was more inviting. A 
few moments before he had been greatly alarmed 
by reports, but now he was eager to set forth with 
the others, the danger apparently forgotten. 


THE RACE TO THE FORT 


79 


A brief time afterward the young lieutenant and 
a dozen or more men started from the fort and ad- 
vancing about a half mile into the forest, turned 
and began to circle the fort As they moved on 
and no signs of the presence of the enemy were 
discovered, the fear which some of them had felt at 
first began to disappear. It was a relief to be out 
in the woods once more. Berries were to be found 
on every side and the scattered men frequently 
stopped and carelessly plucked the tempting food, 
for supplies in the fort were becoming scanty and 
the present opportunity was not to be ignored, 
especially when it seemed to be evident that In- 
dians were nowhere near. 

Sam Geake had continued by the side of David 
and Jonathan and the circle of the fort had almost 
been completed by this time. The three had been 
in the rear of the lieutenant who, with a few of the 
men, had moved in advance of them all. Sam had 
been more cautious than his comrades, or at least 
than Jonathan had been, and many a time had 
stopped and peered intently into the forest when the 
brothers had been plucking the berries from the 
bushes ; but somehow David had been as watchful 
of Sam as he had been of the woods, and while to 
all appearances he was unmindful of their danger 
he had nevertheless been mindful of his companion’s 
apparent fear, though he could not have told why. 


8o 


THE RACE TO THE FORT 


They were now near the place from which they 
had started and were peering intently before them 
for a glimpse of the lieutenant, who doubtless would 
halt and wait for them all to come up before he re- 
turned to the fort 

Not far ahead they suddenly heard the sound of 
guns and then there rose on the summer air that 
dreadful shout which they all knew so well. In a 
moment some one came crashing through the 
woods, and recognizing his friends, the man shouted 
the one word, “ Indians ! ” 

Instantly all turned and began to run swiftly to- 
ward the fort Not even waiting to learn the fate 
of their friends, every man exerted his strength to 
the utmost to gain the shelter of Fort Schuyler. 
On and on they ran until at last, breathless and al- 
most exhausted, they entered and then stopped to 
learn how it had fared with the others. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE STRANGE INTERVIEW WITH THE COLONEL 



NCE more it was discovered that the Indians 


were indeed near the fort and that their 
presence had manifested itself in a severe loss to 
the garrison. Several of the men who had ven- 
tured forth with the party had fallen, and when a 
little while afterward their dead bodies were brought 
into Fort Schuyler by the large force which had 
gone to investigate, every man was aware that the 
peril was steadily increasing. In addition to the 
loss of the killed, it was evident that two or three 
had been carried away captives, among whom was 
the young lieutenant, who had been the leader of 
the force. Sam Geake also did not appear and the 
most of his companions were bewailing the fate 
which ever seemed to be his, for in every capture 
made by the enemy the unfortunate man seemed 
to be among the number of those who were taken. 

David Hardin, however, was, as we know, begin- 
ning to be suspicious of the unfortunate Sam. It 
seemed to him very strange, to say the least, that 
Sam Geake, fleet runner that he was, should never 
be able to outstrip his foes, and what was stranger 


H 


8i 


82 THE STRANGE INTERVIEW WITH THE COLONEL 

still, was the ease with which he seemed to be able 
to escape from his confinement and return to his 
place in Fort Schuyler. 

Perplexed as the young soldier was, he had not 
mentioned his suspicions to any one, not even to 
his brother Jonathan. Somehow he did not feel 
that he had the right to share his fears with another 
and thereby do a possible injustice to Sam, for in 
the excited state of the feelings of the men in the 
fort, short work would be made of any one whoni 
they suspected of being a traitor or a spy. 

In the days that followed there was sufficient ex- 
citement to keep David’s thoughts busy in other 
directions. With the passing of the July days, the 
certainty of the presence of the Indians in the 
vicinity became daily more clear. It soon came 
to pass that no one dared to venture far from the 
fort, and even the parties which were formed to 
go forth and scour the region were fired upon. 
Indians were frequently seen near the walls, and 
the boldness they displayed was accounted for 
only by the supposition that they were sure of aid 
from re-enforcements that must be coming. Scouts 
brought word that St. Leger was advancing and 
already with a large force of Tories and regulars 
had departed from Oswego, and it was now only a 
question of a few days when he would appear be- 
fore the fort and demand its surrender. 


THE STRANGE INTERVIEW WITH THE COLONEL 83 

Meanwhile, matters within the fort became 
steadily worse. Many of the men had never seen 
active service, and their fear of the approaching 
army was perhaps but natural. The regulars had 
long been a name of which the humble settlers 
stood in great fear, and now that they were to find 
themselves pitted against them, the feeling of alarm 
increased. This did not mean that the men had 
any thought of abandoning their post or of giving 
up the struggle, but in view of the exaggerated re- 
ports of the size of St. Leger’s army and its reputa- 
tion for bravery, a battle with them by the feeble 
little garrison could surely have but one end. But 
for the most part the men were resolved, if fall they 
must, it would not be without a struggle that should 
cost the redcoats dear. 

To make matters worse, it became known among 
the soldiers that the supplies were running low and 
that the ammunition was scanty. Both Gansevoort 
and Willett were doing their utmost to impart some- 
thing of their own spirit of determination to the 
men under their command, and in a measure were 
successful. But in spite of their heroism, the dark 
cloud settled lower and lower, and the gloom in 
Fort Schuyler deepened with every passing day. 

In the midst of this experience David and Jona- 
than were surprised one morning when Sam Geake 
appeared. He pointed almost gleefully to a cut in 


. ^84 THE STRANGE INTERVIEW WITH THE COLONEL 

one arm and the torn condition of his clothing as 
evidences of the struggle through which he had 
passed in making his escape from the enemy, for 
once more Sam declared that he had continued to 
get the better of the Indians, and only by the bold- 
est of attempts had succeeded in making his way 
into the old fort. 

To all appearances Jonathan was delighted to see 
the man, but David was silent and made few com- 
ments while Sam glibly told the story of his adven- 
tures. That a man might be able to do once what 
Sam claimed he had done, did not appear improb- 
able, but that he should repeat his success only 
served to increase the fear with which David had 
begun to regard the man. 

When questioned as to the numbers of the In- 
dians, Sam enlarged the story he had previously 
told, and declared once more as his positive con- 
viction that it was little less than lunacy for Colo- 
nel Gansevoort to think of attempting to hold the 
fort in the face of such fearful odds. 

So troubled was David by the unexpected return 
of the man and by the effect of his reports, that at 
last he resolved to seek out the colonel and confide 
to him his suspicions. If Sam Geake needed watch- 
ing, it would be well that the commander of Fort 
Schuyler should be on his guard, and if his fears 
were groundless, no one but the colonel would 


THE STRANGE INTERVIEW WITH THE COLONEL 8$ 

know of them and in that event no harm would 
befall the man. 

Accordingly that very day David sought out the 
colonel in his quarters, and after a brief delay was 
admitted into his presence. Once there, his cour- 
age for a moment failed him. It seemed such a 
cowardly act to speak of what at best were only 
suspicions, that for a moment David was at a loss 
as to how he should begin. His confusion was in- 
creased by the manner in which the officer greeted 
him. He had risen upon David’s entrance, from 
before the table upon which papers were scattered 
in confusion, and as he glanced at the young sol- 
dier, David could feel rather than perceive that his 
entrance had not been welcome and that the colo- 
nel was evidently in haste for him to state the pur- 
pose of his coming and be gone. 

Colonel Gansevoort at this time was still a young 
man, not being thirty years of age. He was tall 
and slender, but his bearing betokened alike the 
strength of his mind and body. His face did not 
have the stern expression of Colonel Willett’s, but 
the smile which was usually there could not conceal 
the firmness with which the lips could come to- 
gether when the occasion demanded. Before the 
war had broken out David had met the young 
officer in Albany, where his home had been, but 
doubtless the colonel had forgotten all about that. 


86 THE STRANGE INTERVIEW WITH THE COLONEL 

Since that time he had seen hard service and had 
been with Montgomery in that advance into Can- 
ada in 1775, and his bearing now betrayed the 
stern lessons he had learned. 

“Did you desire to see me?” said the colonel 
kindly, as he observed the hesitation of his visitor. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ I am at your service, but only for a moment, 
for I am extremely busy.” 

“Colonel Gansevoort, you don’t remember me, 
do you ? ” 

The colonel looked more keenly at the young 
soldier and replied : “ I am afraid I do not. Where 
was it that I saw you ? ” 

“Three years ago at Albany. I went down 
there to see my grandmother and met you while I 
was there. We were skating on the river and you 
came down to watch us. There were some ladies 
with you.” 

“ It has gone from me,” replied the colonel, 
smiling. “ Did you give me your name ? ” 

“ My name is David Hardin and my brother and 
I are here in the fort.” 

“You might be in worse places and I am also 
sure you might be in better.” 

“ I am content to be where you are, colonel, 
though I am not sure we might not all of us be in 
a better place.” 



“ ‘Colonel Ganscvoort, do you know Sam Geake?’ ” 

Page 87 


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THE STRANGE INTERVIEW WITH THE COLONEL 8/ 

“That is for others to say,” replied the colonel 
a little more sternly. “ Was it for this you came 
to me?” It was evident he desired to terminate 
the interview and David knew that he must state 
his case promptly if at all. 

“Colonel Gansevoort,” he began abruptly, “do 
you know Sam Geake?” 

The young colonel could not conceal the fact 
that he was startled by the question, but instantly 
repressing himself, in spite of his Dutch ancestry 
he adopted the Yankee method of replying to a 
question he did not wish to answer and simply said, 
“Why?” 

“I don’t know that I ought to speak of him at 
all, but I have been so troubled that I did not know 
what else to do.” Then David briefly and hurriedly 
told the young officer of his suspicions and fears, 
and said, “ I may be doing Sam an injustice, but 
you will know better than 1. I would not be a 
tale-bearer, but what he says to the men and the 
way he always manages to be taken and then 
always to get back here, has made me afraid. I 
am only a boy, but I thought I ought to tell you, 
and if Sam is all right you will not misunderstand 
me or deal harshly with him, I know.” 

“Sit down, young man,” said the colonel quietly, 
at the same time offering David a chair. “ I think 
you said your name was Hardin ? ” 


88 THE STRANGE INTERVIEW WITH THE COLONEL 

“Yes, David Hardin.” 

“ Are you a relative of Peter Hardin whose home 
is down near the Flats ? ” 

“He is my father.” 

“Ah yes. I should have known you. I think 
I do recollect meeting you in Albany as you say 
some years ago. And where is your father now? ” 

“He and my mother went to Albany. You 
know my grandmother lives there and they thought 
they ought to be there in case — in ” 

“ If General Burgoyne should come there, you 
mean, I suppose,” said the colonel, perceiving the 
confusion of the young soldier. “They are not 
the only ones who are preparing for flight if John 
Burgoyne comes too near. How does it happen 
that you and your brother are here ? ” 

“We came because we were wanted. We 
wanted to come and my father wanted us to come 
too.” 

“ I fancy you know all the country between here 
and Albany? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ How long have you known this Samuel Geake 
you mention ? ” 

“ I knew him years ago when he used to come 
up the valley, but I hadn’t seen him for a long 
time till he came with Captain Swartout’s men from 
Poughkeepsie. Since then I’ve seen him often.” 


THE STRANGE INTERVIEW WITH THE COLONEL 89 

“When you knew him before, what kind of a 
man was he ? ” 

“ I didn’t know anything bad of him except that 
he never appeared to work any. He was always 
‘ visiting.’ ” 

The young colonel smiled slightly at the words 
of David and said : 

“ Are you the only one who is suspicious of him 
now? ” 

“ I don’t know. I’ve never spoken of it to any 
one.” 

“ Of course you have mentioned your fears to 
your brother? ” 

“No.” 

“Why not? ” 

“Because I didn’t want to. There wasn’t any 
use, especially if it wasn’t true.” 

“ How far is it from here to Albany? ” 

“About a hundred and ten miles.” 

“ How many of the boys at the Flats could throw 
you ? ” 

“ Not many,” replied David, wondering what the 
colonel meant by such questions. 

“ Could you swing a scythe as long as your father 
in the hay field ? ” 

“ Not quite.” 

“ I am glad you came to see me. You say you 
have not spoken to any one concerning your sus- 


90 THE STRANGE INTERVIEW WITH THE COLONEL 

picions of Samuel Geake. Do not speak of them 
to any one. Good-morning.” 

David knew he was dismissed and taking his hat 
he went from the colonel’s presence. But he was 
completely mystified. He could not determine 
whether Colonel Gansevoort himself had any fears 
of Sam or not. Certainly he had not expressed 
them, and as David thought over the interview it 
came to him that in reality he had learned nothing. 
And such questions as the young colonel had asked 
him ! They did not seem to have any connection 
with the subject of the interview. What could he 
mean by them ? His thoughts were interrupted by 
Jonathan whom he saw approaching. 

“Where have you been, Dave?” inquired his 
brother. 

“ I haven’t been far away.” 

“ Where’s Sam ? I can’t find him anywhere in 
the fort.” 

“ I’ll help you look,” replied David quickly, but 
a careful search failed to reveal the man for whom 
they were seeking, and David had no difficulty in 
concluding that Sam had again departed from the 
fort. But where had he gone and why ? The 
more the young soldier thought of it, the more 
puzzled he became, nor did he find any solution 
throughout the day. 


CHAPTER X 


THE colonel’s WORD 

T he disappearance of Sam Geake, perplexing 
as it was, did not long continue to interest 
David Hardin, for the immediate problem before 
the inmates of Fort Schuyler soon absorbed all his 
attention, as it did that of his companions. It was 
generally known by this time that supplies were 
low, and the near presence of the Indians could 
not be disguised. Even from the fort itself the red 
men could occasionally be seen as some one of 
them would boldly approach to the border of the 
forest and gaze curiously at the works, and then 
disappear among the trees as if he had no fear of 
a shot from the men on guard. We may be sure 
that the sentry was silent from no desire of his 
own, but Colonel Gansevoort had given strict orders 
that no one should fire unless he was himself in 
great peril, and the word of the commander must 
be obeyed. Perhaps with all the rumors not one 
of the men knew how small was the stock of ammu- 
nition, nor how eager was the young colonel to re- 
serve every ball till it should be required in a con- 
test which he was well assured must soon come. 

91 


92 


THE colonel’s WORD 


The J uly days became warmer and warmer ; the 
bright blue of the summer sky was seldom clouded, 
and the heat of itself would have served to decrease 
the efforts of the men to strengthen the defense. 
But there were other causes which kept the men 
for the most of the time within the shelter of the 
fort. As yet no one had approached the fort nor 
had any direct message been received from the 
enemy, but the knowledge of the presence of the 
red men could not be concealed. The faces of the 
men of the garrison were grave now, and as they 
conversed, it was in low tones and with an air that 
of itself would have increased the gloom that 
seemed to have settled over the fort and its in- 
mates. The guards were increased in number and 
no word of caution was required to make every 
man keenly watchful and alert. 

Upon no one in the fort did the feeling of depres- 
sion rest more heavily than upon Jonathan Hardin. 
His natural light-heartedness and the very buoy- 
ancy of his eager heart suffered the more in the re- 
action which had now come. The more self-con- 
tained David did not display his anxiety, but it was 
none the less felt because he was silent concerning 
it. 

Somehow a rumor had become current in the 
fort that aid was expected from the south, and 
though no one could have explained whence it arose. 


THE colonel’s WORD 


93 


the men, nevertheless, clung to it with all the fervor 
a drowning man is said to show in clutching at a 
straw. But the days passed and still, with all their 
watching, not a sign of an approaching force was 
discovered. Young Colonel Gansevoort showed 
as plainly as the men under his command the 
strain through which he was passing, but the older 
and more imperturbable Colonel Willett, or lieu- 
tenant colonel as he really was, neither by word 
or manner gave any indication that he was aware of 
perils threatening more than were to be expected. 

The officers were doing their utmost to keep the 
men busy and so prevent their minds from dwelling 
upon the threatening state of affairs, but their efforts 
were successful in only a small degree. Mutterings 
from some of the men became more frequent and 
louder, and a few were even bold enough to charge 
the colonel with fear, declaring that he was keeping 
them shut up in the trap because he was afraid to 
venture forth and fight his way to the army in the 
south. Even those who did not share in the dis- 
content and were as determined as their leader to 
hold out to the last, were not so pronounced in 
their replies to such complaints as they had been, 
and altogether the condition of affairs within the 
fort was rapidly becoming such as well might cause 
Colonel Gansevoort to be almost as fearful of his 
friends as of his foes. 


94 


THE colonel’s WORD 


A week had passed since David’s interview with 
the colonel and the latest disappearance of Sam 
Geake had occurred. The brothers were showing 
plainly the effect of the severe strain and whenever 
they talked together, which was but seldom, their 
words were ever of the peril of the fort and the 
fate which in all probability would soon overtake all 
its inmates. The last week in July had now come 
and still the little garrison had no one to look to for 
aid. Provisions were almost gone and starvation 
or retreat seemed the alternatives which remained. 
The murmurings against Colonel Gansevoort be- 
came louder and even his warmest friends and 
supporters were talking bitterly against the leaders 
of the army, which at this very time was finding the 
problem of making a safe retreat or a determined 
stand almost beyond its power to solve. 

As David and Jonathan rose in the early morn- 
ing it was with heavy hearts they faced the coming 
day. There was not much to be done and the 
tedious and almost hopeless waiting was becoming 
unbearable. Even an open attack was to be pre- 
ferred to inactivity, and as they prepared to join 
their comrades and learn what the order of the day 
was to be, Jonathan said : 

“ I can’t stand this much longer, David.” 

I think you’ll have to stand it, whether you can 
or not,” replied David quietly. 


THE colonel’s WORD 


95 


‘‘But why doesn’t the colonel do something? ” 

“There isn’t much to be done ; and besides, you 
don’t know but he is doing something. He doesn’t 
take every boy into his plans.” 

“Your words are as sage and venerable as your 
appearance,” said Jonathan in mock humility, his 
face lighting up with the first gleam of fun his 
brother had seen there for many a day. 

“ I feel it as much as you do,” said David, un- 
ruffled by the words of Jonathan. “But when you 
can’t help yourself, what’s the use of whining? 
‘What can’t be cured must be endured.’ ” 

“ That may be so ; but what can be cured ought 
not to be endured, is the way I’d put it. I could 
fix things here in short order.” 

“You might suggest your valuable plan to Colo- 
nel Gansevoort,” suggested David, smiling lightly 
as he spoke. “What would you have him do? ” 

“Why, I’d — I’d — have him do something, that’s 
what I would.” 

“ But what ? ” 

“Something, I don’t care what. I’d go out and 
tell those prowling redskins to come on. I’d chase 
’em into Oneida Lake. I’d start for Albany. I’d 
go to Fort Dayton. I’d go down and get General 
Schuyler. I’d do something, anyway, if I could 
have my say.” 

“Would you do all those things at the same 


96 


THE colonel’s WORD 


time ? And what would become of Fort Schuyler ? 
And would you let every man follow his own sweet 
will, or how would you do it? ” 

“You’re making fun of me, Dave; but I tell 
you it just doesn’t seem to me I can stand it a day 
longer. Even the sun seems to stop up there in 
the sky as if it wanted to wait and see whether we 
were going to try anything or not,” he added, point- 
ing to the sun as he spoke, which hung like a great 
red ball of fire in the heavens. 

“Nevermind, Jonathan,” responded David sooth- 
ingly. “You know what General Washington said, 
don’t you ? ” 

“About what? ” 

“ Why, about the impatience of the people and 
how they wanted him to whip the redcoats right 
off and not wait a day. They were in such a hurry 
for him to do it that they wouldn’t even wait to 
furnish him with supplies. Perhaps if some of those 
fellows were shut up here in old Fort Schuyler they 
might understand why it is that men don’t rush out 
and drive the redcoats into the Atlantic Ocean or 
Oneida Lake.” 

“I don’t care, I believe something ought to be 
done,” retorted Jonathan. “ Hello ! Here’s some 
one calling for you, Dave.” 

A sergeant was approaching and Jonathan had 
overheard him making inquiries for the whereabouts 


THE colonel’s WORD 


97 


of David Hardin. “Ah, here you are, I see,” said 
the man, as he saw the boys, whom he well knew. 

“Colonel Gansevoort wants to see you some 
time this forenoon,” he said to David. 

“ Wants to see me ? ” 

“Certain.” 

“ ril go at once.” 

“ Had your breakfast? 

“No.” 

“ Wait, then, till you’ve had it, for it won’t take 
long. I’m thinking, and I’m of the opinion as how 
the colonel will be willing to wait a spell.” 

To all of Jonathan’s inquiries and surmises as to 
the purpose of Colonel Gansevoort in summoning 
David not a word would his brother reply. Indeed, 
he himself could only conjecture what the com- 
mander had in mind and he was not inclined to 
share his suspicions even with his own brother. 

As soon as the scanty breakfast had been eaten 
David hastened to the presence of Colonel Ganse- 
voort, by whom he was quietly welcomed and bid- 
den to enter the room. The colonel himself rose 
and carefully closed the door, and as he turned to 
face the young soldier David could readily perceive 
that he had not been summoned without there be- 
ing good reasons. 

“ Have you heard anything more about Sam 
Geake?” inquired the colonel. 

G 


98 


THE colonel’s WORD 


“Not a word.” 

“ Do you hear the men saying anything concern- 
ing his disappearance ? ” 

“Not for three or four days. When he first 
went some of them thought it strange, but the most 
of them seemed to be of the opinion that Sam or 
you knew what he was about and so let the matter 
rest.” 

“ I fancy you have been on the Mohawk a good 
many times.” 

“Yes,” replied David, wondering what that had 
to do with the departure of Sam Geake. 

“ Fished and hunted the length of it, I suppose ? ” 
suggested the colonel. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Followed its course to the Hudson ? ” 

“Yes, sir. The last time I went to Albany I 
went in a canoe.” 

“ Make better time with a canoe than you could 
on horseback, perhaps ? ” 

“I could then, though now that the ground is 
dry and hard ’twould be hard to tell which would 
be better.” 

“ David Hardin, do you know the condition of 
this fort?” 

“ What do you mean, colonel ? ” 

“ What I say. Do you know what the real state 
of affairs is? ” 


THE colonel’s WORD 


99 

“ I know it’s said the supplies are low and that 
there isn’t too much ammunition.” 

“That doesn’t half tell the story. The supplies 
are not only low but are practically gone. As for 
the ammunition, there isn’t enough to fire a vol- 
ley.” 

The colonel spoke quietly and keenly watched 
the face of the young soldier to observe the effect 
of his words. David, however, was silent and if he 
was startled by what he heard, his face at least did 
not betray his surprise. 

Apparently pleased by what he saw, the colonel 
continued : “ I haven’t told you of this merely to 

take you into my confidence. I am not accus- 
tomed to do that with my men. I had another 
and entirely different purpose.” 

Again he paused a moment, but as David still 
was silent and sat looking keenly into his face, he 
said : “ Bad as things are, all hope is not gone yet. 
We should hold this fort as long as a piece of wad- 
ding is left, but I trust we shall not be reduced 
to that extremity. I have received word that Lieu- 
tenant Colonel Mellon, of Colonel Weston’s regi- 
ment, with two hundred men and two bateaux of 
provisions and military stores, is coming up the 
Mohawk to our aid.” 

As David’s face instantly brightened at the words. 
Colonel Gansevoort quickly said : “ Of course, my 


LofC. 


100 


THE colonel’s WORD 


hope is in him, but I have grave fears that he will 
come too late. We may be attacked here any 

hour and if Colonel Mellon should Why, 

what I mean is, that unless he makes haste he too 
may be in graver danger than are we.” 

“ Have you sent word to him ? ” inquired David 
eagerly. 

“That I have, but even messengers and couriers 
are uncertain. The woods are filled with our ene- 
mies and it is not reasonable to expect them to be 
in ignorance of the approach of our friends. A 
messenger must take his life in his hands, so to 
speak.” 

Still David was silent though it was not from a 
lack of appreciation of what Colonel Gansevoort 
was saying. Already he perceived what the mo- 
tive of the commander was in sending for him, and 
though his heart sank at the thought, he neverthe- 
less strove bravely to conceal his fear and to listen 
to the words he was confident were to follow. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE MEETING NEAR THE MOHAWK 

“T FANCY you already perceive the motive I 
-L have had in asking you so many apparently 
unconnected questions,” said Colonel Gansevoort 
quietly, and at the same time keenly observing the 
face of the young soldier before him. “ I must 
send some one to meet Colonel Mellon and inform 
him not only of the peril of the fort, but of his own 
danger as well. Will you be the man to go ? ” 

“Yes, sir, if you desire me to,” responded David. 

“ I was confident I should not be disappointed 
in you. It is a great risk, lad, but a noble one, and 
if you succeed it will be a wonderful help to the 
men in this fort.” 

“When am I to start?” 

“At once.” 

“Am I to go alone?” 

“ Most certainly. I cannot spare more than one 

man and besides, if anything happened to you 

But we will not consider that side of the question. 
With your knowledge of the region and the ex- 
perience you already have had I am confident you 
will succeed.” 

lOI 


102 


THE MEETING NEAR THE MOHAWK 


The warm words of the commander did not con- 
ceal from David the fears he had as to the outcome 
of the attempt, but there was no time given for the 
consideration of forebodings. The colonel gave 
the young soldier a few careful directions, then 
grasping his hand bade him farewell, and David at 
once departed from the quarters. 

His first duty was to seek out his brother, whom 
he speedily found and to whom he at once ex- 
plained what he was to do, at the same time en- 
joining the strictest secrecy on Jonathan’s part. 
He would not listen to Jonathan’s pleadings that 
he too might obtain permission to accompany him, 
and hastily securing his gun and such provisions as 
he could easily carry with him, at once set forth 
from the old fort. 

When he had entered the forest the full meaning 
of his daring venture swept over him. Behind 
every tree, or concealed among the branches, might 
be one of his dusky foes. And there was no pos- 
sibility of learning of his presence before it might 
be too late. 

David Hardin, as we know, was a sturdy young 
soldier and the experiences of the frontier life, as 
well as the nature of the war which was then being 
waged, had tended to increase the natural serious- 
ness for which he had been known in his family 
and among his friends. Had it been Jonathan 


THE MEETING NEAR THE MOHAWK IO3 

who had been sent on the errand, he would have 
started with great enthusiasm, but the first serious 
problem he had to face might have produced a re- 
action which would have made him falter. Not 
that Jonathan was a coward, but his natural im- 
pulsiveness of itself was certain to find its own re- 
actions and the heights to which he attained were 
frequently followed by their corresponding depres- 
sions. David, however, was one who never ex- 
perienced the enthusiasms of his younger brother 
and consequently was also ignorant of the opposite 
feelings. He was a faithful, sturdy, sterling young 
fellow, not easily turned aside when once he had 
begun a course of action, and doubtless was just 
the one to be selected for such an important serv- 
ice as that for which he had now departed. 

His plan had been formed before he left the fort. 
He was to make his way across the adjacent coun- 
try to a spot on the Mohawk not many miles away. 
There he expected to find a canoe, the hiding-place 
of which had been explained to him by Colonel 
Gansevoort, and then he was to take that and con- 
tinue on his way day and night until he should 
meet the approaching bateaux. David knew the 
place well and had no fear of not being able to 
find the little boat. His fears were more of those 
whom he might meet before he gained the bank of 
the river. 


104 the meeting near the mohawk 

However, he trudged sturdily forward, keeping a 
careful lookout as he advanced and frequently 
stopping to peer intently before him or to listen to 
the sounds which might indicate the presence of 
his foes. 

Several hours passed and the sun was beginning 
to drop below the tops of the trees of the forest, 
and as yet no one had been seen. He had discov- 
ered a young bear feeding on the berries near one 
spot he had passed, but not even the tempting sight 
induced the young soldier to use his gun. Bruin 
had sat for a moment on his haunches, and gazed 
stupidly at the approaching man, and then dropping 
upon all fours had run awkwardly into the woods 
and speedily disappeared. Above the treetops 
the cawing crows passed and repassed and their 
harsh discordant cries were the only sounds to be 
heard. Squirrels ran along the low branches and 
bright-colored birds darted from bush to bush, but 
still not a sign of danger had appeared. In another 
hour he would gain the desired spot on the bank 
of the river, he thought, and resting for a brief 
time, he ate some of the food he had brought with 
him, and then looking carefully to the priming of 
his gun, shouldered the weapon and resumed his 
march. 

Sooner than he expected he approached the 
place where the canoe was concealed, and though 


THE MEETING NEAR THE MOHAWK IO5 

he well knew that the peril might only be increased 
when he began to paddle down the stream, it was, 
nevertheless, a relief from the long walk through 
the forest, and besides, was one point gained in his 
journey. The hiding-place might be known to 
others besides himself, he thought, and at once he 
resolved to use more caution. The sun could not 
now be seen, but the twilight would last for a long 
time and he could see clearly all about him. 

Near the place was a slight elevation, free from 
trees on the opposite side and from the summit he 
might be able to see far down the river. It would 
be a good plan to make his way up to the small 
plateau, he decided, and instantly changing his 
course, he pushed swiftly up the side of the little 
hill and advanced to the borders of the trees which 
covered a part of the top. Standing behind a huge 
trunk he gazed out upon the scene before him. 
In the distance were the hills, covered now with a 
haze and reflecting the light of the disappearing 
sun. The little river, as far as he could see it, ap- 
peared like a ribbon of silver as its waters flowed 
onward to join those of the more majestic Hudson 
far away. But not a sign that would indicate the 
presence of a man could he discover, and peer as 
he might, he could not see the longed-for flatboats 
being dragged or poled up the Mohawk with sup- 
plies for the garrison at Fort Schuyler. 


io6 


THE MEETING NEAR THE MOHAWK 


He was about to return and make his way down 
to the valley when he was startled by the sight of 
something moving among the bushes that lined the 
shores of the Mohawk. His first thought was that 
a deer was standing there, but in a moment he dis- 
covered a canoe moving and at once perceived a 
man slowly and cautiously paddling. He was a 
white man, but more than that, or whether he was 
friend or foe, David Hardin could not determine. 

The sight of itself was sufficient to make him 
keenly alert and for a minute he stood and watched 
the man as he paddled the canoe once more into 
the bushes ; then grasping these with his hands he 
laid aside his paddle and drew himself among them, 
where he could no longer be seen by David. 

For a brief time the young soldier was unde- 
cided as to what was best for him to do. The 
canoe had entered the very spot where he had been 
told to look for one. The man might be the mes- 
senger whom the colonel had said he had already 
sent to inform the advancing force of the need of 
haste on their own part as well as for the sake of 
the garrison. In that event he would be certain 
to find a friend and also might learn something 
concerning Colonel Mellon and his men. On the 
other hand, however, David had no means of know- 
ing that the man in the canoe belonged to the pa- 
triots, and if he should prove to be an enemy then 


THE MEETING NEAR THE MOHAWK 10/ 

the better course would be for him to allow the 
strar ger to pass without a hail. 

David hesitated but a moment and then turning 
sharp!}' about began to make his way swiftly down 
the hillside. When he entered the forest in the 
valley he advanced with increased caution and 
making a \ ude detour began to approach the spot 
where the canoe was supposed to be. He was 
moving slowly now and every time he lifted his foot 
he tried to step noiselessly. He frequently stopped 
and listened, but not a sound could he hear to indi- 
cate that the man he had seen was still in the vi- 
cinity. He must be near the bank now he thought, 
and even as he listened he could hear the waters 
of the river as they rushed onward over the rocks 
that were near the shore. Suddenly he heard an- 
other and entirely different sound, like that of a 
man coughing. He heard it only once, but that 
was sufficient to cause him to climb hastily into the 
low branches of a near-by tree and there, holding 
his gun in readiness for instant use and peering in- 
tently into the woods, he waited breathlessly. 

Nor did he have long to wait, for in a few mo- 
ments he could distinctly hear the sound of the 
footsteps of an approaching man, and almost before 
he realized what was occurring he beheld the man 
himself advancing. David’s heart almost stood 
still when he recognized the man as Sam Geake. 


I08 THE MEETING NEAR THE MOHAWK 

As we know, David was already suspicious of this 
member of Colonel Gansevoort’s force and his first 
impulse was to allow him to pass unnoticed, but 
quickly changing his decision, he called in a low 
voice : 

“Sam! SamGeake!” 

The startled man stopped abruptly ar J bringing 
his gun to his shoulder gazed wildly about him for 
the one who had so unexpectedly saluted him. 

Apparently the voice had come from above the 
treetops and Sam was almost as startled as he 
would have been by the somewhat famous clap of 
thunder which is declared at times to be heard 
from a clear sky. He made no response, however, 
and David was rejoiced that for the time he was 
concealed from his sight. There was no knowing 
what Sam might have done in his alarm. 

More softly David called again : “ Sam ! Sam 
Geake ! Don’t you know me?” 

“Ah, yes,” replied Sam, evidently reassured now. 
“ Is that you, Han Yost? What are you hiding in 
the trees for? Come down here.” 

David’s heart gave a great bound when he heard 
the name, Han Yost. He well knew the fellow re- 
ferred to, a not over-bright “Dutchman,” whose 
family was known to be on the Tory side. More 
than once had Han Yost Schuyler, though he was 
not more than seventeen years of age, been accused 


THE MEETING NEAR THE MOHAWK 


109 


of affording secret aid and information to the ene- 
mies the sturdy Whigs were then fighting. And 
Sam had called out the name as if he was thor- 
oughly familiar with it. Instantly David suspected 
that Sam and Han Yost had met before and for 
purposes that might not have endured the light. 
However, it was too late now. for him to remain 
concealed and David quickly responded : 

“You’re wild, man. It’s not Han Yost Schuyler 
up here but David Hardin.” 

“ So it is ! So it is ! ” replied Sam with apparent 
cordiality. “ I had no thought of seeing you here. 
Come down here and give an account of yourself” 

“I’m coming,” responded David, as he grasped 
his gun tightly and in the dim light, with a heart 
not altogether free from fear, he prepared to join 
the waiting Sam below. 


CHAPTER XII 


A MISSING CANOE 

I N a few minutes David had joined his recent 
comrade in arms and as he approached he 
perceived that Sam was regarding him with as 
great apparent surprise as he himself had felt at 
the discovery of the other soldier in that particular 
place. However, David was the first to speak, for 
perhaps the attitude in which Sam was standing, 
with his gun in readiness for instant use, had caused 
the young soldier to declare himself 

“You are the last man I expected to see here,” 
said David quietly. 

“’Tis a mutual surprise. I’m thinking,” replied 
Sam diyly, as he lowered his weapon and waited 
for David to come nearer. 

“Where have you been? Are you going back 
to the fort now? ” 

“ I’ve been roaming up and down the earth like 
unto a certain person who seems to be very much 
in evidence these days. When did you leave the 
fort, Dave?” 

“To-day.” 

“ Are all the men coming ? Has the colonel at 
no 


A MISSING CANOE 


I I I 


last decided to abandon the fort? I thought he’d 
come to his senses, for Colonel Gansevoort’s no 
fool, whatever foolish things he may have tried to 
do.” 

‘‘ He isn’t one to give up,” replied David quietly. 
“ I don’t believe he knows how.” 

“ He’ll learn, I’m thinking, and in pretty short 
order too.” 

“Why, what’s wrong? Have you heard any 
news, Sam ? ” 

“ Heard it and seen it both.” 

“What is it? ” 

“ Oh, it’s just news from the front, that’s all. It 
may be the colonel knows already that John Bur- 
goyne has taken Fort Ticonderoga and has the Yan- 
kees — I mean our men of course — on the run toward 
Albany. But that won’t do much good, for they’ll 
fall plump into the hands of General Clinton, who 
is coming up from New York to join Johnnie, and 
between ’em they’re sure to have Schuyler in a 
trap. That is, if Schuyler holds on, which accord- 
ing to all reports isn’t very likely.” 

“What’s wrong with General Schuyler? ” 

“ Oh, everybody is blaming him and St. Clair 
for the loss of Ticonderoga. I understand that 
John Adams said there wouldn’t be any hope for the 
Americans — I mean us, you know — till one or two 
of the generals were shot, meaning Philip Schuyler, 


2 


A MISSING CANOE 


of course. It’s a fine mess they’re making of it 
around Lake George and Fort Edward.” 

“ How did you hear of all this, Sam ? ” 

“That’s what I went out for to hear and so of 
course I heard it” 

“ Did the colonel send you for news ? ” 

“ Ye didn’t s’ pose I went out on my own sweet 
will, did ye ? Well, if ye did, I can say I haven’t 
any hankering after that kind of work. And then, 
to make matters worse, — as if they weren’t bad 
enough already, — the woods are just full of red- 
skins. Barry St Leger is on the march from 
Oswego, and he’ll just scoop in Fort Schuyler as 
a matter of course. Then he is going to keep on 
down the valley till he joins Burgoyne and Clinton 
at Albany, and between the three of ’em there 
won’t be a Whig left in York.” 

“Are the Indians around here now, Sam?” in- 
quired David, in a low voice. 

The words of his companion had been sadly de- 
pressing, for in his heart the young soldier was con- 
vinced that Sam had spoken truly. If Ticonderoga 
had indeed fallen, and Schuyler’s army was retreat- 
ing toward Albany, and Clinton was at the same 
time advancing from the city, it must surely fare 
ill with the desperate Continentals. And then too,' 
if St. Leger, with a force of redcoats and Indians, 
with such allies as Brant and Cornplanter, was 


A MISSING CANOE 


II3 

moving upon Fort Schuyler, perhaps Sam was cor- 
rect and it was only the part of foolishness for 
Colonel Gansevoort to try to hold the fort against 
such overwhelming odds. 

Then too, it occurred to the perplexed David 
that he had been unjust in his suspicion of his 
companion. From his words he understood, though 
Sam Geake had not directly declared it to be so, 
that the colonel had sent him out on a mission not 
unlike that upon which he himself was engaged. 
What must the colonel think by this time of the 
words he had spoken against Sam? Doubtless 
they had but served to arouse suspicions against 
his own reliability. 

David had been silent for a moment as he was 
thinking of these things, but he was quickly aroused 
by a question from Sam, who said : 

*‘But you haven’t told me, David, how it is you 
happen to be out here.” 

“The colonel sent me,” responded David simply. 

“What for. I’d like to know? Doesn’t he un- 
derstand it’s most sure death for a man to be out 
here in the woods when there’s a redskin or a red- 
coat behind every tree ? ” 

“I haven’t seen any.” 

“No. And you won’t either. You may hear 
one, though, and you won’t have very much time 
to reply, either. Where have ye started for?” 

H 


4 


A MISSING CANOE 


‘‘There’s a relief party coming to the fort.” The 
moment he had uttered these words David regretted 
his thoughtlessness. Sam might be all right, but 
he had been strictly told not to disclose the pur- 
pose of his journey to any one. He discovered 
also that his words were decidedly interesting to 
his companion, for Sam instantly looked up in sur- 
prise and said, “You don’t mean that for a fact, do 
ye?” 

“Yes.” 

“I haven’t heard a word of it, and I rather guess 
the colonel’s mistaken, that’s all. I’ve had a talk 
with some of the Tories hereabouts and not one 
of ’em knows anything about it.” 

“Was that the reason you thought I was Han 
Yost Schuyler? ” 

“I guess so. I’ve seen the fellow, but between 
ourselves he doesn’t know enough to tell a Conti- 
nental from a redskin. Who’s in command o’ the 
relief? ” 

“ Colonel Mellon.” David did not want to say 
more, but having already told of the coming of aid, 
he could not well remain silent. 

“When does Colonel Gansevoort expect ’em to 
arrive ? ” 

“Almost any time now. That’s the reason he 
sent me out. He wants to have them make haste 
for their own sakes as well as for the fort.” 


A MISSING CANOE 


115 

“ He’s a wise man, Colonel Gansevoort is. You’d 
better turn around and go back to Fort Schuyler 
with me, Dave. There isn’t a bit o’ use in trying 
to go on. I’ve been over the course myself and I 
tell you for a fact that there isn’t a white man on 
the Mohawk ’twixt here and Schenectady. ’Twas 
up the Mohawk the colonel was expectin’ Colonel 
Cucumber to come, wasn’t it? ” 

“Yes, though it’s Colonel Mellon you mean, I 
think.” 

“In course. I said Colonel Mellon, didn’t I? 
’Tis all the same, anyway.” 

“ I’m not going back to the fort now,” said 
David quietly. 

“ That’s where you make a mistake, Dave. I tell 
you I just came up the river myself and you can 
report on my word, can’t ye? ” 

“ I’ll have to go on, Sam. There’s a canoe here. 
Perhaps it’s the one you used yourself I’ll have 
to take it and go on.” 

“ Have it your own way, Dave, though I must 
say I think you’re making a big mistake. You 
won’t see anybody and you’re just running your 
head straight into danger, for the Indians are thick 
as flies all around here. But if ye will. I’ll go down 
and help ye get the canoe. Do you want to start 
now or will ye wait till mornin’ ? ” 

“ I’ll go now.” 


A MISSING CANOE 


I l6 

The dusk by this time had deepened and the 
night was at hand. The cries of the night birds 
could be heard, but they chiefly served to make 
the silence of the forest more intense. In the sky 
the stars had appeared and a gentle breeze was 
moving among the treetops, producing a sound that 
was lonesome and almost weird. Despite his de- 
termination, and we well know that David Hardin 
was not one to yield lightly to his fears, the young 
soldier was strongly oppressed as he rose to follow 
Sam to the place where the canoe was concealed. 
The reports of the fall of Fort Ticonderoga, and of 
the plan which Burgoyne and Clinton were to use, 
which even to the inexperienced David appeared 
to be a most admirable one, had served to dampen 
his ardor, even if he had not known what Sam had 
declared to be true, that the woods were filled with 
his dusky foes. But not a word did he utter as he 
followed his companion to the bank and entered 
the marshy spot where the canoe was concealed. 

“You stay here, Dave,” said Sam, “and Til go 
in and get the canoe for ye. There isn’t any use 
in your wading through the mud, and besides, you 
couldn’t find the spot in the dark. I could go 
there blindfolded in the darkest night and I’ll soon 
have you all fixed out.” 

“All right,” replied David, remaining in the 
place where he then was, which was well concealed 


A MISSING CANOE 


II7 

by the high bushes that grew along the shore. He 
could not see far in advance of him, and the sound 
of Sam’s retreating footsteps soon ceased. Then 
he waited till the slow moments had passed and he 
thought at least a half-hour was gone and still not 
a word was heard from his recent companion. 

If David had known that Sam Geake had gained 
the place where the canoe was concealed and then 
had lifted the light structure in his arms and with 
noiseless steps had borne it to the water and then 
had seated himself in it and without using his pad- 
dle had grasped the bushes with his hands and had 
pulled himself along the bank in the opposite di- 
rection to that which David himself wished to take, 
his fears, doubtless, would have been greatly in- 
creased. As it was, he knew nothing of the treach- 
ery of his companion and remained waiting until 
at last he was convinced that something was wrong. 
Then he too advanced cautiously, his heart op- 
pressed by a new fear now, until at last he stood 
upon the bank of the Mohawk. Before him the 
silver-like waters went speeding away in the faint 
light, but not a sign of the presence of Sam could 
he discover. Up and down the stream he peered 
eagerly but only the river and the motionless trees 
along the bank could he see. 

After a time he resolved to make a search for 
the canoe himself He knew the spot where it was 


ii8 


A MISSING CANOE 


concealed, but when he entered it the boat was not 
there. Continuing his search he moved up and 
down the bank, vainly hoping to discover either 
Sam Geake or the longed-for canoe, but neither 
could be seen. At last he ventured to call, though 
he was well aware of the danger of the attempt, 
but in response only a wild duck suddenly flew out 
from the bank near his feet and with a loud whir- 
ring of its wings disappeared in the darkness. 
Startled by the unexpected sound David quickly 
drew back and sought the shelter of the great trees. 
He was convinced now that Sam had deserted 
him and his heart sank when he recalled the 
thoughtless manner in which he had informed him 
of the expected approach of Colonel Mellon’s force 
for the aid of the garrison at Fort Schuyler. 


CHAPTER XIII 


A NIGHT OF PERIL 

F or several minutes David Hardin stood mo- 
tionless, his heart oppressed by a double fear. 
Convinced now that Sam Geake had deliberately 
deserted him, he was troubled not only by the peril 
of the garrison, which his own thoughtless words had 
without doubt increased, but by his own danger as 
well. If Sam really was a traitor, of which the 
young soldier now had little doubt, he would at 
once report to the enemy the approach of Colonel 
Mellon’s forces and either try to intercept them or 
advise an immediate attack upon Fort Schuyler, 
for if the Indians and redcoats were as near as he 
reported them to be, and David had no doubt of 
the truthfulness of Sam Geake’s words in this one 
particular, then either or both of these events was 
likely to occur. 

So for the time even the thought of his own peril 
was forgotten as David tried to decide which was 
better, to go back to Fort Schuyler and frankly in- 
forrh Colonel Gansevoort of his own mistake, to 
call it by no worse name, and so put the garrison 
on the lookout, or to go on until he met the ap- 

119 


120 


A NIGHT OF PERIL 


preaching force of Colonel Mellon and so carry out 
the orders which had been given him. He soon 
decided upon the latter course, rightly concluding 
that the men in the fort would be sufficiently watch- 
ful without any added caution from him, and on 
the other hand. Colonel Mellon might need the very 
word he was expected to carry to him. 

Decision is one matter and the ability to carry 
out what we have decided to do is an entirely differ- 
ent one, as many who have lived since the trying 
days of the siege of Fort Schuyler have learned 
to their sorrow, and David Hardin was still at a 
loss to know just what move to make. 

There was no moon, though the night was not 
dark, and the young soldier could see for a short 
distance about him. The frogs had joined in their 
usual evening chorus and one voice in particular 
rose above the others in tones unusually deep and 
strong. To the listening David it almost seemed 
as if the note were one of warning and he would 
have been glad to heed it, only he knew not how. 
Suddenly above the chorus he heard the long 
mournful hoot of an owl, and in a moment the re- 
sponse was heard nearer and clearer. David well 
knew that the Indians were accustomed to use the 
cries of birds as the means of summoning their fel- 
lows and as the weird cry died away his heart 
almost stood still. Perhaps Sam Geake had already 


A NIGHT OP PERIL 


I2I 


met some of the red men and had informed them 
of his presence and they were now moving upon 
the place where he stood. 

The thought was not a comforting one, but some- 
thing must be done and at once, he well knew that. 
Grasping his gun lightly he once more moved cau- 
tiously toward the bank he had recently left and 
soon stood upon a spot from which he could see 
far down the river. But the whispering night 
wind and the ripples of the water were all that he 
could hear except the noisy chorus of the croaking 
frogs. It seemed to him for a moment that he 
must either cry aloud for aid or make a mad rush 
through the woods back toward the fort ; but the 
feeling of terror speedily passed and more calmly 
he endeavored to face his problem. Once more 
he heard the long-drawn cry of an owl and this 
time the response was still nearer. 

Without hesitating a moment David stepped from 
the bank into the stream and began to make his 
way toward the opposite bank. It was more than 
likely that his foes, if they came, would approach 
the place where Sam had left him ; and the op- 
posite bank would at least give him the advan- 
tage of being able to see without being himself 
seen, and if he should decide to run he would also 
have a good start over his pursuers. Accordingly 
he waded out into the stream, stepping carefully 


22 


A NIGHT OF PERIL 


upon the slippery stones and occasionally stopping 
to peer about him. The water was cold, but in the 
warm night it was refreshing to the excited boy. 
In places the stream ran swiftly, but he safely 
passed these, and as he approached the opposite 
bank he discovered that the water was becoming 
much deeper. It soon came to his armpits, but 
holding his gun above his head, David proceeded 
until he found that he could not gain the bank 
without swimming and he could not do that with- 
out wetting his gun. Resolved to avoid that dan- 
ger if possible, he turned back and waded carefully 
and slowly farther down the stream, and then when 
he once more approached the bank he was delighted 
to discover that he could safely wade ashore. 
Clambering up the sloping side, he for a moment 
glanced behind him, but not perceiving any one in 
sight, he quickly turned and walked up the shore 
to a spot he thought was about opposite the hiding- 
place of the canoe, and then with his gun still held 
tightly in his hands, seated himself and waited for 
what might appear, as he watched the shore he had 
recently left. 

The slow moments passed and David was soon 
chilled by his wet clothing. The very monotony 
of the waiting soon seemed to deaden the sense of 
his danger and at last leaning back against the 
tree before which he had seated himself, he slept. 


A NIGHT OF PERIL 


123 


Just how long he had been sleeping he could not 
determine, but he was suddenly awakened by the 
feeling that danger was near. As he looked across 
the river at first he could not see anything except 
the dim outlines of the trees. The frogs were still 
croaking, though the volume of sound had de- 
creased, some of the participants evidently having 
retired from the contest in which each apparently 
had been determined to make his voice heard 
above that of his companions. Faint patches of 
light clouds could be seen here and there in the 
summer sky, but to all appearances there was noth- 
ing to disturb the peacefulness of the night or to 
indicate that anything to be feared was near. Yet, 
in spite of the prevailing stillness, David Hardin 
could not shake off the feeling that some threaten- 
ing danger was approaching him. 

Suddenly, as he was gazing at the shore directly 
opposite, he perceived something moving and in- 
stantly recognized^!! Indian, who had been stand- 
ing motionless as the trees about him and looking 
up and down the noisy Mohawk. The man stepped 
softly back from the bank and immediately was lost 
to sight among the bushes and trees. But David 
Hardin did not require more to convince him that 
he was the one the red man had been seeking, and 
without doubt the treacherous Sam Geake either 
had returned to the place, or had sent some of his 


124 


A NIGHT OF PERIL 


dusky friends to the spot with information as to 
where he was to be found. 

As the full sense of his peril swept over him 
David arose and cautiously moved back farther 
from the bank. Without stopping to consider 
fully what he was doing he made a wide detour 
through the forest and when again he approached 
the river he was at least a half-mile below the spot 
where he had discovered the Indian on the op- 
posite shore. Then he pressed rapidly forward, 
sometimes walking in the water and sometimes 
upon the bank, yet all the time proceeding with 
haste and caution and frequently stopping to lis- 
ten, though he was well -aware that he would not 
be able to hear the footsteps of his pursuers if the 
Indians were following him. 

The many miles which he thought he had cov- 
ered dwindled to less than five when at last the 
morning sun appeared and he recognized the place 
he had gained. Fort Dayton ^ was still several 
miles away and he was not even sure that he would 
find the old blockhouse occupied, for, doubtless, 
in these troublous times the people who were ac- 
customed to flee there for safety must know that 
they would find anything but a sure defense in the 
rude structure. Still, he had an undefined hope 
that he might find aid there and as it was hopeless 


1 Herkimer. 


A NIGHT OF PERIL 125 

to attempt to make his way back to Fort Schuyler 
his only plan was to press forward. 

He had seated himself behind a tree, well con- 
cealed, as he thought, from the river, to rest and 
to eat some of the water-soaked provisions he still 
had with him. His condition was almost desperate, 
fearful as he was to advance and yet still more 
afraid to return ; but the young pioneer was not 
one to give way easily before even the most dis- 
couraging of problems, and resolving to keep on 
until he had satisfied himself that Colonel Mellon 
either was, or was not, coming up the Mohawk, he 
ate his scanty breakfast and then prepared to push 
forward. Now that it was broad daylight, he de- 
cided to advance along the bank, and while he kept 
near to the river, not to expose himself to the sight 
of any one passing in a canoe before he himself 
had had an opportunity of perceiving whether it 
was friend or foe who was near. 

He stepped forward to the bank, however, to 
satisfy himself that no one was within sight, but he 
almost spoke aloud when he discovered a canoe 
coming swiftly down the stream. He instantly per- 
ceived that the occupant was a white man, and 
though the sight for a moment served to quiet his 
fears, he well knew that some of the men of whom 
he was in greatest fear did not have a dusky skin, 
and so he stepped back behind a tree, though 


126 


A NIGHT OF PERIL 


he kept a careful watch upon the approaching 
stranger. 

As the canoe came nearer David suddenly 
shouted, as in his delight he recognized the man, 
“Adam ! Adam Helmer !” 

Instantly checking the progress of his canoe, the 
man dropped his paddle and seizing his gun glanced 
keenly at the bank from which the unexpected hail 
had come. 

“Who calls me?” he inquired cautiously. 

“’Tis I. ’Tis David Hardin,” and as he spoke 
David stepped forward upon the bank in plain sight 
of the passing man. 

“Ah, yes, so it is,” replied Adam, after a brief 
pause, and at the same time sending the canoe 
swiftly to the place where David was standing. 

Landing, he lifted the canoe in his arms and 
bearing it up the bank to a secluded place on the 
shore, turned and grasped the young soldier warmly 
by the hand. 

“It does my old eyes good to see you, lad,” he 
exclaimed cordially ; “ but how came you to be 
here ? ’Tis no place for one of Gansevoort’s men, 
for, if reports are true, every one is needed behind 
the walls of Fort Schuyler.” 

Adam Helmer, hunter and pioneer, was a famil- 
iar character throughout the Mohawk Valley. 
Among the first to enter the beautiful region he 


A NIGHT OF PERIL 


127 


had never made for himself a home there, having, 
as he declared, “neither chick nor child” ; but in 
the cordial hospitality of the rude settlers he never 
had known the lack of a place in which to stay, 
though from early spring until late in the autumn, 
and indeed during much of the winter, his time 
was passed in the forests. A trapper whose suc- 
cess was proverbial, and a hunter whose fame had 
gone abroad, it is safe to affirm that there was no 
man to whom the boys of the region had so looked 
up as they had to Adam Helmer. Fortunate in- 
deed was the lad who was privileged to go with 
Adam on some of his long tramps in the forest, 
and as David Hardin, a few years before this time, 
had frequently been invited to accompany him, 
there had sprung up a strong friendship between 
the two, despite the difference in their ages. And 
now, when David beheld this man, a feeling of re- 
lief swept over him, for to his mind where Adam 
Helmer was, there was safety, and the response he 
gave to the warm greeting of the old hunter was 
one that seemed to afford as much pleasure to the 
older man as it did to the younger. 


CHAPTER XIV 


AN ALLY 

I N response to the hunter’s question David briefly 
described the condition of affairs in Fort Schuy- 
ler and also said that he had been sent out by the 
colonel. Adam listened attentively to what the 
young soldier had to say and then said : 

“’Tis well known at the Flats ^ that Fort Schuy- 
ler is in dire straits, but the sturdy Dutchmen of 
the valley are not idle, though I much fear me they 
will be too late. You know as well as I how they 
dearly love to put off the doing of the deed till 
sometimes they seem to neglect it.” 

“ What are they doing ? ” inquired David eagerly. 
His own brother was an inmate of the fort and per- 
haps fears for Jonathan’s safety were not without 
their effect in increasing his anxiety for the wel- 
fare of the garrison. 

^‘Why, they are gathering here at Fort Dayton 
and General Herkimer himself is to lead them to 
Fort Schuyler.” 

“What are they waiting for? Why don’t they 
start?” 

^ German Flats, where Fort Dayton was located. 

128 


AN ALLY 


129 


Adam shrugged his shoulders suggestively as he 
replied : “ Who knows ? I can tell the flight of 

a bird and know pretty well where a deer can be 
found or how a fox will turn on his own trail ; but 
the ways of the Dutchmen no man knows, no not 
one.” 

“ Isn’t there any one besides the Dutchmen and 
General Herkimer there?” 

“Surely, but their eagerness only serves to in- 
crease the slowness of the others. You know, 
David, that Dutchmen love not to be driven.” 

“ I don’t know as that is confined to the men 
who came from the Palatinate. I have a dim sus- 
picion that you believe your own way is best, 
Adam. Even you are a bit set in your ways.” 

“ But if I know I am right, lad, what would you 
have me do?” replied Adam, apparently unaware 
that he was in anywise inconsistent. But, then, 
Adam Helmer was only like the most of mankind 
who are unconsciously prone to magnify as virtues 
the weaknesses which are most apparent in them- 
selves, apparent at least to others. 

“What are they waiting for?” inquired David 
again anxiously. “ If they know that Colonel 
Gansevoort is so hard pressed, why don’t they start 
to his aid ? I don’t see what they are waiting for.” 

“They wait for men and guns and ammunition 
and I know not what all. If they had nothing else 

I 


30 


AN ALLY 


to wait for ’tis my opinion that then they would still 
wait for something to wait for/* and Adam laughed 
silently, a custom in which he had ever indulged 
as far back as David could remember. 

How long do you think it will be before they 
march ? ” 

‘‘’Twill be as General Herkimer says, I doubt 
not ; and yet, David, I confess the old soldier is 
not without reason in his delay. He knows what 
poor stuff his command is made of Why, lad, 
there is not a handful of those men who know how 
to use a gun.” 

David smiled, but made no reply to the implied 
boast of the hunter, who in his pride in his own 
prowess with the rifle was inclined to judge all men 
by his own standard, which was merely another in- 
dication that Adam Helmer was not unlike the men 
of modern times, who are somewhat inclined to 
compel all others to submit to the measurements 
by which they are prone to test themselves. 

“ However,” resumed Adam, “ a start will be 
made ere long, I doubt not, and General Herkimer 
is one who will be heard from when he gets into 
action. If the Dutchmen are slow to take hold 
they are just as slow to let go, which is not the 
worst trick in all the world.” 

“Adam,” said David, “do you know Sam 
Geake ? ” 


AN ALLY 


I3I 

“ He who marched with Captain Swartout’s 
men ? ” 

“The very man. He’s a traitor and ought to 
be hanged or shot ! ” 

“They are strong words, lad,” replied the hunter. 

“ None too strong,” and David related the story 
of his recent meeting with the man. 

Adam listened attentively, but shook his head 
and said : “ You are over quick, lad, in your judg- 
ments. Sam himself may have been scalped by 
the redskins, for you say you saw some where you 
were.” 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” replied David and 
to tell the truth the suspicion that Sam Geake had 
met with foul play had not once entered his mind. 
Saying no more concerning the man of whom he 
had been suspicious, he briefly told Adam of his 
own purpose in leaving Fort Schuyler ; and to his 
delight the hunter responded : 

“Yes, I knew Colonel Mellon was coming and 
already he is not far away. I myself have been a 
courier and have passed these men. But more 
than Colonel Mellon are coming, if I mistake not.” 

“You don’t say so !” exclaimed David delight- 
edly. “ Who else is coming ? ” 

“ If I am not deceived there will be a detach- 
ment from the army of Gates, for Gates has taken 
Schuyler’s place, as perhaps you know already.” 


132 


AN ALLY 


“ No, I did not know. Why is that? ” 

“Ask them as knows,” growled Adam. “That 
little coxcomb Gates has at last got Schuyler’s 
place and a sad day it will be for the Colonies too, 
or my name is not Adam Helmer. David,” he 
added solemnly, “ do you know what Gates is ? ” 
“No. What is he?” 

“ A dandy. Yes, sir, that’s just what he is. He’s 
a dandy, nothing more nor less. He puts on more 
airs than a girl the first time she has a beau. He 
wears store clothes and is all befrilled and bedecked 
same as if he was a queen or some great lady. 
Think of a man like that to fight John Burgoyne !” 

David was tempted to laugh, knowing as he did 
the decided objections Adam had to any one who 
did not wear the loose hunter’s garb in which he 
himself delighted ; but perhaps he did not think that 
in the veiy objection of his friend he betrayed as 
much of an insistence upon a particular style of 
dress as did the “dandy” to whom he strenuously 
objected. However, he was so delighted with the 
information that Colonel Mellon was not far away, 
that other matters were ignored, and soon, accept- 
ing Adam’s invitation he seated himself in the ca- 
noe which was speedily restored to its place in the 
river, and driven on by the strokes of the powerful 
hunter they soon neared Fort Dayton, where the cis- 
sembly of General Herkimer’s men could be seen. 


AN ALLY 


33 


Disembarking, Adam left David for a few min- 
utes to make a report to the general that he had 
discovered signs of Indians near-by, and the young 
soldier began to move about the place looking with 
curious eyes at all he saw. Truly Adam had well 
described the men. Farmers, old and young, were 
there, having responded to the call for aid much as 
the minute men of Lexington had responded to the 
appeal made to them more than two years before 
this time. Their weapons were rude, their dress 
rough, but there was a determination in their man- 
ner and bearing which might well have caused the 
better-clad and better-equipped redcoats to pause 
before they attacked them. Many of the men were 
personally known to David, having been friends or 
neighbors of his in that time when he had lived at 
home and had worked on the clearing with his 
father and younger brother, a time that seemed 
now very far away. 

As David was passing from one place to another 
he suddenly perceived Han Yost Schuyler and in- 
stantly the mistake which Sam Geake had made in 
mistaking him for Han Yost occurred to him and 
with the thought his suspicions of Sam also in- 
stantly returned. 

Approaching the lad, or young man as he really 
was, David held forth his hand and said pleasantly : 
“Why, Han Yost, I didn’t know you were here. 


134 


AN ALLY 


How long have you been with General Herkimer’s 
men?” 

Han Yost stared stupidly at David for a moment 
as if he did not recognize him and then said slowly : 
“ I vas not here.” 

“Oh, you aren’t here? Well, then, when do you 
expect to be here?” 

Han Yost continued to stare stupidly and made 
no reply. 

“ I saw a friend of yours last night, Han Yost. 
Do you know, he almost took me for you. You 
ought to feel complimented, I think, and I’m not 
sure but I was too.” 

Han Yost looked keenly at David, but still was 
silent. 

“Why don’t you ask me who it was?” inquired 
David pleasantly. 

“ Who he vas ? ” 

“ It was Sam Geake.” 

There was a keen look in Han Yost’s eyes now 
that belied the stolid manner in which he had been 
listening to David’s words, a look not lost upon the 
young soldier, who was hoping to learn something 
concerning Sam from this Dutch boy who by many 
was thought to be only “half-witted.” 

“Have you seen Sam lately?” continued David, 
still striving to appear indifferent. 

“Yah ! I haf seen.” 


AN ALLY 


135 


“ Where was it you saw him ? ” 

“ At mine house.” 

** At your house ? ” 

“Yah. Dot vas de wort I say. At mine house.” 
Han Yost’s stolidity or stupidity had returned and 
to all appearances he was not interested in David’s 
questions. His apparent indifference, however, only 
made his questioner the more eager, and David 
said sharply : 

“ What was he doing at your house ? ” 

“ He vas drink some milk,” and turning abruptly 
on his heels Han Yost departed from the place, 
starting toward the rough roadway that led into the 
forest. 

The inclination David felt to follow him and 
question him further was not followed because of 
the approach of Adam Helmer, who said: “Ah, 
here you are, lad. I didn’t know but you had 
gone down the Mohawk.” 

“That’s where I must go and at once.” 

“You can wait here for Mellon. He’ll soon 
come.” 

“ I wasn’t sent to wait here, and I must go on. 
'Twill be night again soon and I would like much 
to meet the men before the sun sets.” 

“ But the woods are full of redskins, David ! ” 

“ I know it, but that is only the more reason why 
I should not delay longer. I think that was why 


AN ALLY 


136 

Colonel Gansevoort wanted me to get word to Col- 
onel Mellon.” 

“ But, lad, I doubt not they are making the best 
time in their power now. You will not push the 
bateaux any faster up the Mohawk if you do meet 
them.” 

“I must go,” persisted David sturdily. “What 
would the colonel think of me if he should hear 
that I had stopped by the way?” 

“Tis as I thought, lad,” replied Adam quietly; 
“but 'tis not safe for you to go alone. I shall go 
with you.” 

David’s pleasure was so manifest that the hunter 
smiled and said : “ Nay, lad, ’tis not alone for you 
I go. General Herkimer has told me to go with 
you and report to him what I find down the river, 
now that I have told him of what is up the stream.” 

Without delaying longer they at once made their 
way to the river, where Adam’s canoe was speedily 
brought forth, and with David seated in the stern 
and the hunter paddling they began the descent of 
the stream. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE PLACE OF PERIL 

M eanwhile, within the walls of Fort Schuy- 
ler, the men had not been idle, for none 
knew better than they the peril which beset them. 
As we already know, the French engineer who had 
been placed by General Schuyler in charge of the 
repairs of the fort had been wofully incompetent 
or treacherously negligent, some declared him to 
be one and some the other, while many, among 
whom was Colonel Willett, said he was both. 

Instead of repairing the works after the plan and 
manner in which they had first been built he had 
sent out parties of men from the fort to cut logs for 
pickets ; but these he had directed to be erected 
in the covert way and not in the center of the ditch 
as the former ones had been used. It was discov- 
ered that all of these logs were seventeen feet in 
length instead of ten as they should have been and 
after all that the soldiers had done and dared in 
securing them they were found to be useless. Col- 
onel Willett was so angry when he learned of the 
mistake that he advised the instantaneous dismissal 
of the incompetent Frenchman. Colonel Ganse- 

137 


138 THE PLACE OF PERIL 

voort, however, refused to discharge him, not being 
willing to ignore the orders of General Schuyler, 
who had sent the man to the aid of the fort. 

Then too, the engineer had gone to work and 
erected barracks for the men outside the walls 
which, as soon as the enemy came and the siege 
of the fort was begun, proved to be worse than 
useless, for not only were they unsafe for the pa- 
triots to occupy, but they provided most excellent 
kindling wood for St. Leger’s army, as we shall 
soon learn. 

To make matters still worse, he erected a salient 
angle to cover one of the gates, but it was so built 
that the loopholes in the pickets did not correspond 
with the embrasures of the fort. Colonel Willett 
early discovered the fatal mistake, but he was silent 
concerning it until the labor was almost completed 
and then he once more, triumphantly this time, 
urged Colonel Gansevoort to be rid of the danger- 
ous man. 

This time the young commander could not ignore 
the blunders, and gave the desired permission to 
arrest the man, a permission which the impulsive 
and angry Willett speedily used, and the offending 
Frenchman was at once dismissed from the fort and 
sent to headquarters, and at the same time a mes- 
sage was also sent General Schuyler informing him 
of what had been done and the reasons for doing it. 


THE PLACE OF PERIL 


139 


With the departure of the engineer, the men 
were free to work along the lines desired by their 
own officers and such was their diligence that soon 
they had the wall around the fort repaired, the 
parapets almost raised, embrasures made on three 
sides of the bastions, horizontal pickets fixed 
around the walls, perpendicular pickets around 
the covert way, and the gate and the bridge were 
made secure. All save the parapets were com- 
plete when at last the decisive moment came. 

The two chief lacks in the fort now were provi- 
sions and ammunition, and yet in spite of these se- 
rious defects, the men were far more hopeful than 
they had been since the time when their peril had 
first been discovered. The mistake of the French 
engineer in having the pickets cut seventeen feet in 
length instead of ten turned out to the advantage 
of the garrison after all, for cutting away the extra 
seven feet they used the timber in constructing a 
powder magazine, which was built near one of the 
bastions. This, when covered with earth, as it 
speedily was, provided a secure place in which to 
store the scanty ammunition which was then at the 
disposal of the soldiers. 

On the very day when David Hardin had de- 
parted from the fort with his word for Colonel 
Mellon, who was supposed to be coming up the 
Mohawk with stores for the garrison, a letter was 


140 THE PLACE OF PERIL 

received from one of the friendly Oneida chiefs 
written on the preceding day. In this letter the 
chief, who was variously known as “Thomas 
Spencer” and “Sachem Thomas,” wrote : 

At a meeting of the chiefs to-day they tell me 
that there is but four days remaining of the time 
set for the king’s troops to come to Fort Stanwix, 
and that they think likely they will be here 
sooner. . . 

The chiefs desire the commanding officers at 
Fort Stanwix not to make a Ticonderoga of it. . . 

Let all the troops that come to Fort Stanwix 
take care on their march, as there is a party of In- 
dians to stop the road below the fort. . . 

Send this to the committee : as soon as they re- 
ceive it, let the militia rise up and come to Fort 
Stanwix. . . 

This may be our last advice. . . 

We send a belt of eight rows to confirm the 
truth of what we say. 

The letter, although it did not add anything to 
the information already possessed by the garrison, 
increased the determination, as it did the sense of 
danger, of all the men. Every one in the fort knew 
now that a crisis was at hand. The only probable 
aid was that which might come up the valley, and al- 
though word had been received of the plan formed 
by General Herkimer, who had called out every 
able-bodied man in all of Tryon County to come 


THE PLACE OF PERIL 


41 


to Fort Dayton, and a courier had also brought 
word of the approach of Colonel Mellon and his 
men, still it was not known what plan might be 
used by the redcoats and their allies to cut them 
off It was a terrible time for the men within the 
fort. As has been said, provisions were short, am- 
munition was scanty, the fort itself was far from 
being an easy place to defend, and all in all they 
knew they were in a desperate plight. Still, to the 
credit of the men be it said, there was no sign of 
flinching and as far as human strength could go 
the very best would be done for Fort Schuyler and 
the sterling young colonel who was in command. 

To Jonathan Hardin the time of anxiety was 
doubly hard to bear. No one knew better than 
he that the errand upon which his brother David 
had been sent was one of great peril. That David 
could be depended upon to be cautious and care- 
ful he well knew, but in times like the present, 
what could even his carefulness avail ? The woods 
were said to be full of Indians and from even 
the walls of the fort they had been seen repeatedly 
within the past few days. Then Mynderse was 
also gone, and whether dead or alive no one of his 
friends knew. The uncertainty as to his fate, added 
to the anxiety for his absent brother, made Jona- 
than deeply depressed and in the serious-minded 
young soldier few would have recognized the light- 


I 


142 THE PLACE OF PERIL 

hearted, merry lad of only a few days before. His 
very restlessness made him the more eager to work 
and thereby forget for the time being the cloud 
which rested over all, resting a little heavier upon 
him than upon his comrades, he thought, with the 
natural selfishness that belongs to young life. 

On the night before David’s departure from the 
fort, the sentinel who was walking his rounds on the 
northwest bastion was killed by the ball of a rifle 
fired by some one outside the walls, who was not 
seen by any one within the garrison. On the fol- 
lowing night the sentry who took his place as 
guard where his companion had fallen, was bid- 
den to be doubly careful. Whether he forgot the 
injunction or not was never known, but soon after 
the gray of the dawn appeared, the sound of a rifle 
was heard, and when the sergeant of the guard 
rushed to the place where the sentinel had been 
placed, it was only to discover the body of the 
dead soldier. No one else was within sight and 
the mysteiy of the fallen man was still unsolved. 
Two men had now been the target of some unseen 
enemy and both had fallen at the same hour in 
the morning and in almost the same place. 

Not unnaturally the northwest bastion now be- 
came a place of dread and who should be ordered 
to that position on the following night, was a ques- 
tion every man was asking of himself and also of 


THE PLACE OF PERIL 


143 


his neighbor. It was, therefore, with a sinking 
heart that Jonathan Hardin learned that to him 
that particular spot was to be assigned and that he 
must prepare to pass the night there, and perhaps 
be the third victim to fall by the shot of an unseen 
foe. Whoever it was that used the rifle, he was a 
most excellent shot, as the two dead sentinels might 
have testified if word could come to the living from 
the dead. 

“ I tell thee what, Jonathan, lad,” said one of the 
older men, a man who had dwelt on a clearing not 
far from Jonathan’s home, “’tis a hard task that is 
before thee. Were it not for those who look to 
me for support I would willingly take thy place. 
It does not seem fitting that one of your years 
should fall, when we who are older grown and al- 
most useless now, should be left. ’Tis the fate of 
a soldier, though.” 

“Yes, I suppose ’tis as you say,” replied Jona- 
than soberly, for his heart was oppressed with a 
fear he could not shake off. 

“Tell me, lad,” continued the older man, 
“whether there be any — any words or message — 
any ” 

The man stopped abruptly, for he saw that Jona- 
than perceived what he meant and for so young a 
lad as Jonathan Hardin deliberately to send mes- 
sages that were to be delivered to those he loved 


144 


THE PLACE OF PERIL 


after he had fallen, was more than the troubled 
boy could endure. 

“There, there !” said the older man soothingly, 
“’tis likely that the same fate will overtake us all ; 
for who knows whether one of us shall be left alive 
to tell the tale of Fort Schuyler? Unless aid soon 
comes — and for my part the only stories to which 
I give credence are those concerning Joseph Brant 
and Barry St. Leger — we shall all go the way of 
all the earth, and that right speedily. ’Tis hard 
that Schuyler and Gates should leave us here 
penned up like a rabbit in a figure-four trap, with 
plenty of ways in and not one out If Colonel 
Gansevoort were a man of my years, he long ago 
would have put out from this place, which is not 
worth the holding, if we were by any chance able 
to defend it ’Tis hard and not in the least 
seemly.” 

Jonathan Hardin was in no mood, however, to 
listen to the croakings of his “comforter” and 
giving only brief replies to the spoken words, as 
soon as possible he departed from his presence. 
His gloom increased when he discovered at the 
mess that night that all the men were watching 
him with an unconcealed feeling of pity expressed 
on the face of every one. Sympathizing as they all 
did with the young soldier, whose doom to all ap- 
pearances was sealed, the relief that another and 


THE PLACE OF PERIL 


145 


not himself had been selected for the perilous task 
was almost as apparent as the pity expressed by 
each. 

The lad naturally found the place almost unbear- 
able and after eating but little of the scanty sup- 
per, and persistently declining all the offers his 
comrades made of their own food, he soon returned 
to his own quarters. There he looked carefully 
to the priming of his rifle, and after collecting 
some of his few personal belongings, he sought out 
the sergeant of the guard and had a brief but ex- 
ceedingly interesting conversation with him, and 
then, when darkness had come over the land, he 
took the place which had been assigned him as 
sentinel on the dreaded northwest bastion. 


K 


CHAPTER XVI 


Jonathan’s ruse 

B ack and forth and up and down Jonathan 
Hardin marched on his beat and somehow 
his eyes were steadily turned toward the dim out- 
lines of the forest, not far away. There was no 
moon, but the summer night was not very dark 
and he was able to see the dim outlines of the 
distant trees. As he himself kept well within the 
shadows of the walls of the fort, he knew he would 
not easily be seen by any one outside, but the 
nervous fear could not be shaken off and for a time 
the young soldier was not fully aware of what he 
was doing. 

Gradually, however, as the moments passed and 
the solemn silence of the surrounding forest was 
unbroken, he became calmer and was better able 
to think of his immediate duties. Frightened as 
he was — and not even from himself did Jonathan 
attempt to conceal his fear — he, nevertheless, be- 
came more alert and never for a moment withdrew 
from the protecting shadows of the fort. Not far 
away he could hear the voice of the men at work 
on the powder magazine. It was a comfort to 
146 


Jonathan’s ruse 


147 


know that he was not alone, and that friends were 
near by, who might be summoned in case of need. 

The sergeant of the guard also had promised to 
return before the morning light and be with him 
when that eventful hour of dawn should arrive, the 
time apparently chosen by the unseen marksman, 
who had proved to be the death of the sentinels 
on the two preceding nights. 

Midnight came and still the young soldier held 
to his beat, but not a sign of the presence of an 
enemy had been discovered. A silence as of the 
grave itself rested over the gloomy forest. From 
within the fort occasionally the sound of a voice 
could be heard from the place where the men were 
working, and in the sense of companionship Jona- 
than found a deal to strengthen his heart. The 
first feeling of nervousness was gone and the test- 
ing-time had not yet come. 

It was now two o’clock, though the young sen- 
tinel did not know the hour. It seemed to him as 
if the night were almost endless and that morning 
never would come. His feeling of nervous dread 
returned now only at times, but then it would seem 
to him as if he must run to his companions or 
summon them to his aid. Resolutely the lad had 
driven away his weakness and every time with a 
stronger determination had resumed his dreary 
march. But the critical moment would soon be at 


Jonathan’s ruse 


148 

hand, and as it drew near, Jonathan’s restlessness 
increased. It seemed to him as if he must do 
something, though he knew not what to do. 

He had, however, not come to the place un- 
rhindful of the warnings afforded by the death of 
the former sentries and had suggested a plan to 
the sergeant of the guard to which that officer had 
readily consented, though it was evident even to 
Jonathan that he had slight hopes of its success. 
The time had not yet come to test it, however, and 
there was nothing to be don*e now but to wait. 

Another hour passed and still he had not been 
molested. There were signs that the dawn was 
soon to come, and nervous as he was, he yet was 
eager for the trial of his project and at last the mo- 
ment for testing it arrived. Placing his gun against 
the wall where he could easily seize it if it was 
needed, he took a heavy iron bar he had brought 
with him and proceeded to make a hole in the 
ground. This having been done, he drove a stake 
into the place and then quickly tied a cross piece 
to it a few inches below the top. He was working 
eagerly, anxiously, now, for the birds were begin- 
ning to be heard and doubtless were early astir for 
the proverbial worm which is said to be foolish 
enough to await the coming of the first songster 
to shake off dull slumber. 

Jonathan next unrolled a bundle he had brought 


Jonathan’s ruse 


149 


with him and took from it some of his own cast-off 
clothing. The torn and badly worn trousers were 
adjusted to the stake and then a coat was added, 
the arms having been placed on the cross piece. An 
old hat was then placed upon the top and a harm- 
less old musket was left leaning carelessly against 
the scare-crow, for it was but little more that he 
had fashioned. 

However, it was his own contrivance and per- 
haps his only hope. When the work was com- 
pleted he hurriedly ran to one of the embrasures, 
and taking his stand behind it, peered out at the 
forest. The light had now increased so that he 
was able to discern more than the outlines of the 
trees. The air resounded with the notes of the 
feathered songsters and Jonathan knew that the 
moment for which he had been waiting and plan- 
ning at last was at hand. 

Peering through the open place he carefully 
scanned the trees before him. No one was moving 
among them that he could see and he was certain 
no man was in the open space between the fort and 
the forest. He glanced back at the substitute he 
had fashioned. In the dim light the outline was 
not unlike that of a man resting upon his musket. 
He had driven the stake into the ground at the 
very place where each of the sentinels had fallen, 
for both had fallen upon the same spot. 


Jonathan’s ruse 


150 

As Jonathan turned to look through the em- 
brasure once more he was startled by the sound of 
a gun outside the fort and almost at the same time 
heard the thud of the bullet as it struck the dummy 
he had constructed. In the distance, from the top 
of one of the trees, he perceived a little cloud of 
smoke rising and then he instantly was aware that 
he had located the hiding-place of the unknown 
marksman. 

The young soldier was trembling in his excite- 
ment now, but he dared not once remove his gaze 
from the tree in which he had discovered the smoke 
of the gun. It was so like the others that he feared 
he would not be able to find it if once he lost its 
exact location ; so, still upon his knees, he looked 
out and watched the tree. No one could he see 
near it and to all appearances no one was in it. Still 
he was convinced that it was from that tree and no 
other the shot had been fired, and he waited, breath- 
less with excitement, for the sergeant of the guard 
to come and fulfill his part of the promise he had 
made. 

In a few minutes Jonathan heard the voice of 
the officer calling to him in low tones : “ What is 

it, lad? Are you hurt?” 

“Not a bit,” replied Jonathan eagerly. “I’m 
all right and I’ve found the place where the rascal 
has hidden himself” 


Jonathan’s ruse 15 i 

“ Show it to me,” said the sergeant as he kneeled 
beside Jonathan. 

“ There it is, right over there. It’s that oak tree 
with the dead branch in the top. Can’t you see it? ” 

“ Yes, I see it all right enough, but are you sure 
any one is in it? ” 

“No one has left it, anyway, and I saw the puff 
of smoke there when the gun was fired. He must 
be there now.” 

“Keep your eye on the spot, lad, and I’ll go and 
tell Colonel Gansevoort. I’ll be back soon. Don’t 
lose sight of the tree for a minute, Jonathan.” 

The advice was not necessary, for Jonathan, now 
that he had located the sharpshooter, was resolved 
not to let him escape. His own rifle was by his 
side and if the man appeared he would try the 
effect of a shot himself. It seemed to him as if 
neither the colonel nor the sergeant would ever 
return, so impatient was he. In reality but a few 
minutes had elapsed before the sergeant of the 
guard with Colonel Gansevoort and three men came 
to the place and j'oined him. 

“ Has he gone, Jonathan? ” inquired the sergeant 
eagerly. 

“No.” 

“Show the colonel the tree, lad.” 

Colonel Gansevoort knelt by Jonathan’s side and 
peered out at the tree indicated by the sentinel. 


152 Jonathan’s ruse 

It was distant only about thirty rods and could be 
plainly seen. 

“ You are sure that is the tree ? ” said the colonel 
quietly. 

Yes,” replied Jonathan firmly, although in truth 
he began to have misgivings himself! He had 
gazed so long and so steadily at the spot that it al- 
most seemed to dance before his eyes and the en- 
tire line of trees to be moving up and down together 
and all to be strangely confused. 

Colonel Gansevoort turned and in a low voice 
spoke to his followers. In response to his word a 
small four-pounder was quickly brought up and 
after it had been heavily loaded with grape and 
canister was aimed at the top of the tree indicated 
by Jonathan. There was then a brief pause and 
the “morning gun,” as most of the men in Fort 
Schuyler thought it, roared out its early hail. 

The sound of the shot as they tore their way 
through the branches of the tree showed that the 
aim had been true, and a moment later a shout 
went up from the men watching from the north- 
west corner bastion. The body of an Indian came 
tumbling to the ground from among the branches 
of the tree. It caught for a moment on the twigs, 
then turned and twisted and freed itself and caught 
again and then fell through the open space to the 
ground beneath. 


Show it to me,’ said the sergeant 








Jonathan’s ruse 


153 


‘‘Well done, lad !” exclaimed the young colonel 
eagerly. “You’ve caught the rascal this time, for 
sure. Was this your substitute ? ” he added, as for 
the first time he perceived the figure Jonathan had 
constructed. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ ’Twas well that you placed it where you did, 
for the fellow was a good shot,” he exclaimed, 
pointing as he spoke to a hole in the coat which 
the bullet of the sharpshooter had made. 

“Shall we bring him into the fort?” inquired 
the sergeant, pointing to the motionless body of the 
fallen Indian, which could plainly be seen by all. 

“ By no means,” replied the colonel sharply. 
“There may be a dozen more as good, or rather 
as bad, as he, hidden close by. We must not ex- 
pose a single man needlessly. I think, sergeant, 
you might relieve this young sentinel now, as he 
seems to have done his full duty for one night,” 
and as he spoke he placed his hand affectionately 
on Jonathan’s shoulder. 

“What is your name, lad? ” he inquired. 

“Jonathan Hardin.” 

“Say you so?” he exclaimed in a low voice. 
“Are you David’s ” 

“I am his brother,” replied Jonathan simply. 

“ I might have known. That is an added reason 
for relieving you. You shall have a double portion 


1 54 Jonathan’s ruse 

for your breakfast, boy, and I shall not soon forget 
you.” 

“ Have you heard anything from David ? ” in- 
quired Jonathan anxiously. 

“ Not a word. I would that I had,” responded 
the colonel solemnly. “ But go you and break 
your fast and then you shall sleep till mid-day, or 
longer if you shall desire.” 

Jonathan, his delight at the success of his scheme 
somewhat dampened by the evident anxiety of the 
colonel over the absent David, turned obediently 
to go to his quarters, but his plan was speedily 
changed when he perceived Sam Geake beckoning 
to him from a place near by. 


CHAPTER XVII 


FLIGHT 

T he feeling of comfort in the heart of David 
Hardin when he settled back in the canoe 
and watched his sturdy companion as he deftly 
wielded his paddle may well be imagined. Wearied 
by his long tramp and by the sleepless night he 
had passed there was now a sense of protection in 
Adam Helmer’s very presence which was fully ap- 
preciated by the young soldier. And then too, the 
maiwelous speed the canoe was making under the 
lusty strokes of Adam gave promise that a speedy 
end of the voyage would be found. 

The progress of the canoe was aided by the cur- 
rent of the Mohawk, which in places was swift and 
strong, and Adam was quick to turn to his advan- 
tage the help of the river. The summer day was 
warm and bright and had it not been for the mem- 
ory of the fort he had left behind and the assembly 
of several hundred men at German Flats w'ith that 
doughty warrior. General Herkimer, David would 
almost have felt at peace with all the world. As 
it was, hour followed hour and still Adam main- 
tained his position in the canoe, steadily plying his 

155 


156 


FLIGHT 


paddle and quietly declining every offer of his 
young companion to assist him in the labor. 

When, however, three hours had passed, Adam 
ran the canoe ashore and bearing it in his arms up 
the bank sought and found a secluded spot where 
they might rest and eat the food they had brought 
with them. The quiet of the hunter did not de- 
ceive David, who at once understood that Adam 
was fearful of the presence of enemies. What he 
had heard at Fort Dayton to increase his caution 
Adam did not explain, but his carefulness was not 
without its effect upon his companion and scarcely 
a word was spoken by either until the meal had 
been eaten and it was almost time to resume their 
voyage in the canoe. 

Before they started, however, Adam stretched 
himself at full length upon the turf and lighting his 
pipe looked keenly at his young friend and then 
said : 

“ David, this is a sad time for the poor folk of 
Tryon County.” 

To this self-evident proposition David replied : 

“ So it is, Adam ; but it may be only the dark 
hour before the dawn, you know.” 

“ Tis a sad time, and the worst of it is that some 
of those who ought to be our stanchest friends are 
traitors, — no more, no less.” 

Anything new, Adam ? ” 


FLIGHT 


157 


“We don’t need anything new, the old is bad 
enough of itself. But I have just heard that down 
here at the Shoemakers’ there is a meeting of the 
Tories every day or two and that they are keeping 
the redcoats informed as to what is being done all 
the time.” 

David well knew the place to which Adam re- 
ferred, for the Shoemakers dwelt near Little Falls 
and their dealings with Johnson and his “ Greens,” 
as Sir William Johnson’s Tory bands were called, 
were familiar to him as they were to most of the 
people dwelling in the Mohawk Valley. 

“They’re doing a trick now, at this very time,” 
resumed Adam, ignoring the silence of David, who 
had not felt called upon to reply. 

“What’s that?” inquired David. 

“They’re even using the children and fools to 
help them. ’Tis said that they two — children and 
fools, I mean, — are ever prone to speak the truth ; 
but this Han Yost Schuyler couldn’t tell the truth 
if he was paid for it, which he’ll not be by the pa- 
triots, I know, and that he will really be paid by 
the Tories no one who knows them will believe, 
unless it is Han Yost himself” 

“What’s he been doing?” 

“ Oh, he’s such an innocent that ’tis thought by 
the rascals no one will suspect him and so they 
send him into our camps, and he may have been into 


158 


FLIGHT 


Fort Schuyler itself, for all that I know ; but he’s 
not as big a fool as he looks to be, and he sees and 
hears more than he is given credit for and is able 
to carry many a bit of information to the Tories, 
who, I doubt not, keep Brant and Butler and St. 
Leger well informed as to what we are trying to 
do.” 

“And yet you thought, when Sam Geake mis- 
took me for Han Yost up the river, that Sam was 
all right.” 

“And so he may be. I’m suspicious of many, 
but I wouldn’t be of all. You saw and met Han 
Yost yourself, but that doesn’t mean that you, 
David Hardin, were helping to push on the Tory 
plans. No, David, ’tis not wise nor reasonable to 
treat every man these days as a rascal.” 

“ But I’m not,” protested David warmly. “ ’Twas 
you, Adam, who was just speaking of the traitors 
and Tories, not I.” 

“ Perhaps I did, but then I knew whereof I spake. 
’Twas no guesswork on my part, you see. But 
Nicholas Herkimer will be enough for them all, 
even yet. Thou knowest, lad, the summons he 
sent throughout Tryon County for the men, young 
and old, to come to his aid? ” 

“ I heard of it.” 

“’Tis here in my pocket,” and as he spoke Adam 
drew forth a copy of the famous proclamation 


FLIGHT 


159 


General Herkimer had issued, and rising from the 
ground, he placed it against the bark of one of the 
trees and turning to David said : “ Do you read 

it, lad; I am no scholard.” 

Thus bidden David stepped to Adam’s side and 
placing one hand upon a corner of the proclama- 
tion, saw that it was dated July i/th, and then 
slowly read aloud, to the delight and pride of the 
hunter : 

Whereas, It appears certain that the enemy of 
about 2,000 strong, Christians and savages, are ar- 
rived at Oswego, with the intention to invade our 
frontiers, I think it proper and most necessary for 
the defense of our country, and it shall be ordered 
by me as soon as the enemy approaches, that every 
male person, being in health, from sixteen to sixty 
years of age in this county, shall, as in duty bound, 
repair immediately with arms and accoutrements, 
to the place to be appointed in my orders and will 
then march to oppose the enemy with vigor, as true 
patriots for the just defense of this county. And 
those that are above sixty years, or really unwell 
and incapable to march, shall then assemble, also 
armed, at the respective places where women and 
children will be gathered together, in order for de- 
fense against the enemy, if attacked, as much as 
lies in their power. But concerning the disaffected 
and who will not directly obey such orders, they 
shall be taken, along with their arms, secured under 
guard, to join the main body. And as such an 
invasion regards every friend to the country in 


6o 


FLIGHT 


general, but of this county in particular, to show 
his zeal and well-affected spirit in actual defense of 
the same, all the members of the committee, as well 
as all those who, by former commissions or other- 
wise, have been exempted from any other military 
duty, are requested to repair also to such place as 
shall be appointed and join to repulse our foes. 
Not doubting that the Almighty power, upon our 
humble prayers and sincere trust in him, will then 
graciously succor our arms in battle for our iust 
cause, and victory cannot fail on our side. 

“’Tis marvelous! ’Tis wondrous like!” ex- 
claimed Adam, as David ceased. 

“’Tis a strong word. I doubt not all will re- 
spond to it,” said David. 

“ I mean not the proclamation,” said Adam 
quickly; “’tis the reading of it I mean. How any 
one can read those scratches on that bit of paper 
beats me. And yet it sounds the very same when 
I listen to you that it did when I heard it read at 
the Flats.” 

“That’s not so very strange,” replied David, 
nevertheless somewhat flattered by the praise and 
evident admiration of the hunter. “ You can read 
the signs of Indians and know where the game for 
your traps is to be found, but I fear me I should 
do little at that.” 

“ I could easier tell the meaning of the marks 
of a mud-hen’s feet in the sand than I could what 


FLIGHT 


l6l 


those funny little quirks and splashes mean. And 
yet that same paper has called more than seven 
hundred men to Fort Dayton. ’Tis beyond the 
power of man ” 

Suddenly Adam ceased and darted to one side, 
for while he spoke an arrow came whizzing past 
their heads and burying itself in the bark pinned 
the proclamation to the tree. For an instant Adam 
gazed at the missile, and turned sharply about to 
discover whether any one could be seen in the 
woods behind them, and then in a low voice said 
sharply to his companion, “Take the guns, Davie, 
and run for the river.” 

David needed no second word and instantly seiz- 
ing the guns darted toward the near-by bank. Adam 
was close behind him bearing the light canoe upon 
his shoulders and in a moment this was launched 
upon the waters of the Mohawk. Not even stop- 
ping to explain how he came by it he handed a 
second paddle to David and bidding him help, the 
two men were quickly upon their knees, each ex- 
erting all the strength he could command. The 
light canoe darted forward almost with the speed 
of the wind. The wooded shores seemed to dart 
past them. Neither of the men glanced behind, 
but the sound of a gun and the whistling of a bul- 
let close to their ears left no doubt as to the fact 
that their enemies were not far distant. 


L 


i 62 


FLIGHT 


Still the men did not falter at their task. On 
and on sped the canoe, the strong paddles dipping 
together in the water and the backs of the paddlers 
swaying back and forth as if they had been ma- 
chines. Once they grazed a rock which came 
close up to the surface of the river, but the canoe 
was not stopped. Once David in his zeal drove his 
paddle deep into the mud in a shallow spot over 
which they sped and for a moment it seemed as if 
both would be thrown into the river, but through 
Adam’s efforts the canoe was speedily righted and 
then darted forward with still greater speed. 

Soon they came to a place where the current was 
swift and the water boisterous. Jagged looking 
rocks were dangerously near the surface and at the 
speed with which the canoe was moving it did not 
seem possible that it could make a safe passage 
through the perilous descent. 

Again the sound of a gun was heard behind 
them and glancing back Adam said in a low voice, 
“They’re after us, boy. ’Tis a big canoe with four 
of the redskins in it. Our only hope is to keep on. 
Do your best, lad, and be careful now.” 

“ I’ll try,” gasped David, as he strove to increase 
their speed. 

Their violent exertions and the heat of the sum- 
mer day were producing their natural effects now. 
The faces of both men were streaming with per- 


FLIGHT 


163 


spiration and even the muscles of David’s sturdy 
arm were beginning to tire. The water too was 
boisterous, but if only this passage could be safely 
made, there was hope that farther down they 
might take to the woods and escape. Not far be- 
low them they could see that the water was calmer 
and, though swift, was free from rocks and therefore 
less dangerous. 

Their hopes were dashed, however, when the 
light canoe struck hard upon a projecting rock 
which even Adam had not seen, and in an instant 
both men were thrown into the seething, rushing 
waters. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A GREAT CHIEF 


HE water was not deep, coming as it did not 



^ much above the waist ; but as David fell he was 
almost strangled, for the overturn had been so sud- 
den that he was in no way prepared for it. As he 
strove to gain a foothold the swiftness of the current 
and the slippery stone upon which he stepped again 
destroyed his balance and he was thrown forward, 
face downward, into the river. 

To add to his confusion, when he at last secured 
a place upon which he could stand for the moment 
he heard a shout from up the river and could plainly 
see the approaching canoe. The swift current and 
the increased activity of the Indians when they dis- 
covered the mishap of the hunter and David, com- 
bined to increase the speed of the pursuers and for 
a moment the young soldier thought that all was 
lost. 

In his desperation he struggled toward the bank 
which Adam had already succeeded in gaining and, 
as he grasped the hand the hunter held forth to 
him, with one last supreme effort he succeeded in 
gaining the shore. A glance at the oncoming 


164 


A GREAT CHIEF 1 65 

canoe revealed its nearness, and without hesitating 
a moment, Adam said : 

“ Come ! We’ll make for the woods ! ” 

The great trees grew close to the shore, and 
instantly darting among them the two men ran 
swiftly forward. Their canoe had been borne away 
by the current and even if they had thought of 
continuing their flight by the river, the loss would 
have made that impossible now. Their only hope 
was the forest and that was by no means a strong 
one, for both believed that their pursuers would 
speedily land and follow them through the woods. 
Still they had not yet been taken, and while there 
was life there was hope, so keeping well together 
the two men ran swiftly and steadily forward and 
did not pause until a full half-hour had passed. 

Then, as David was almost breathless, the hunter 
stopped and motioning for his companion to be 
silent, listened intently. As far as he could per- 
ceive not a sound broke in upon the stillness of the 
great forest. The low beams of the afternoon sun 
in places penetrated the sombre shade and the rays 
of light danced and flickered, almost tantalizing the 
fugitives with their quietness and peace. There 
was no one near them, that much at least was evi- 
dent, but Adam Helmer was too well versed in 
Indian ways to believe that they had succeeded in 
throwing their pursuers off the trail. 


66 


A GREAT CHIEF 


“ Lad, never throw away your gun, whatever hap- 
pens,” said Adam, as for the first time he perceived 
that David’s weapon was gone. 

“I know; but ’twas not of my doing, Adam,” 
replied David. “ I had no wish to lose my gun 
any more than you had to have me.” 

“ But never let go your hold on your gun, David. 
’Tis your best, and may prove at times to be your 
only friend.” 

“You have your gun, ’tis true, but what good is 
it? ’Twas filled with the Mohawk, and a hickory 
club would now do as well.” 

“Nay, that it would not,” replied Adam glancing 
affectionately at the weapon in his hands. “ ’Tis 
true the ‘ orator,’ for so I call this rifle of mine, is 
a bit husky in the throat and perhaps has even lost 
his voice for the moment, but he will soon be dry 
and able to bark as well as ever, though I think 
’twill be best to pull the load now,” and Adam 
proceeded to extract the load which the gun then 
had. 

“I’m sorry my gun is gone,” said David ; “but, 
Adam, the next time you tip over the canoe, just 
give me warning and I’ll try to keep one hand on 
my rifle and the other on the canoe itself” 

“’Twas not my fault that the canoe upset,” re- 
torted Adam sharply, for in spite of the difference 
between their ages he felt the rebuke implied in 


A GREAT CHIEF 16/ 

David’s words. “ Had I been alone, the canoe 
would never have gone over.” 

“ I know that,” responded David quickly, per- 
ceiving that the hunter had been hurt by his words. 

I have you to thank that I am here, for had you 
not come with me I very much fear me the arrow 
which only pinned General Nick Herkimer’s procla- 
mation to the tree would have found a better tar- 
get. Our escape is due entirely to you, Adam.” 

“ Say no more, say no more,” said Adam quickly, 
mollified at once by the praise of his young com- 
panion. “As for that proclamation, ’twill do little 
good, back there where we left it, I fear. But 
when you speak of escaping, ’twould be well, I 
think, to wait, for though we are in the woods ’tis 
true, we are not yet out of them, and even now the 
redskins may have surrounded us.” 

“Let us go on then,” said David hastily, rising 
as he spoke from his seat on the ground. 

“ But where shall we go ? ” 

“Anywhere, anywhere. Let us not wait here 
another minute.” 

“ ’Tis all very well to say ‘ anywhere, anywhere ’ 
but the fire may be hotter than the frying-pan. It 
may be well to jump, but ’tis also good to see where 
one is to land. I am not certain the redskins are 
following us now.” 

“What makes you think that?” 


i68 


A GREAT CHIEF 


“ They know as well as we do that Colonel Mel- 
lon's men are not far away, and they have no de- 
sire to stand before them, I can tell you." 

“There may have been enough of them to am- 
bush the colonel." 

“Nay, I think not so. 'Twas more likely they 
were a scouting party and were sent to find out the 
approach of the colonel and then report to others. 
Leastwise that’s my humble opinion." 

“ Why, then, did they chase us ? " 

“We were but two and doubtless they thought 
us fair game, outnumbering us as they did. Two 
scalps were not to be thrown away, especially when 
they were on the heads of men who pushed their 
way into the very hiding-place these fellows had 
chosen, as I make no doubt we did. Nay, David, 
I think the better plan will be for us to go back to 
the Mohawk, a mile or two below the place where 
we left it, and proceed along the bank till we come 
upon Colonel Mellon’s force, which now cannot be 
far away." 

“Why can’t we start at once then?" inquired 
David eagerly. 

“We can, but ’twill be wiser and safer to wait 
till we are sure no part of the paddlers have kept 
up the chase by land, though I have not much fear 
as to that. I do not opine we shall see another 
Indian before " 


A GREAT CHIEF 


69 


Adam suddenly ceased, for standing directly be- 
fore them was an Indian, taller and larger far than 
any David had ever before beheld. For an instant 
both men were speechless and David was so terrified 
that for a moment it seemed to him that his heart 
had almost ceased to beat Adam had instantly 
seized his gun as if he had forgotten that the “ora- 
tor” had “lost his voice,” but he quickly checked 
himself as he said quietly : 

“ Ha, Scanandoa ! Ye didn’t send us any word 
o’ your coming, so we were a bit slow in bidding 
you welcome.” 

The warrior before them then was Scanandoa. 
As he heard the name David breathed a sigh of 
relief, for many a time had he heard of this famous 
chief of the Oneidas, though never before had he 
seen him. Gazing curiously at him David was able 
now to mark some of the characteristics of this 
warm friend of the white men. 

In his appearance he was indeed a noble red 
man, standing as he did almost six and a half feet 
in height. Calm and dignified he seemed the veiy 
personification of one born to command. His re- 
markable physical strength and the intelligence that 
was visible in the expression of his clear-cut face 
were both for a moment forgotten as David cu- 
riously observed the manner in which the chief had 
been tattooed. There were nine lines, arranged 


I/O A GREAT CHIEF 

by threes, extending downward from each shoulder 
and meeting on his chest. These had been colored 
by some dark material and seemed to increase the 
weirdness of his remarkable appearance. 

“What a terrible enemy he could be,” thought 
David, but at the time the expression upon the 
chief’s face was as mild and gentle as that of a child. 

“Stay you here, David,” said Adam in a low 
voice as he rose and approached the chief and 
withdrawing with him into the woods was lost to 
sight for a quarter of an hour, though the time 
seemed much longer to the waiting boy. 

When Adam returned he was alone and said : 
“’Tis all right now, lad. We’ll go at once to the 
river. Scanandoa will attend to our friends.” 

“Then that was Scanandoa, was it? What a 
wonderful man he is !” 

“Wonderful? That doesn’t half tell the story. 
He’s over seventy years old now, but there isn’t a 
member of the whole tribe of the Oneidas that can 
keep up with him for running, and when it comes 
to strength, why the rest of ’em are babies in his 
hands. And then you should hear him speak ! I 
don’t myself understand very much of the Oneida 
jargon, but he makes me feel as if I wanted to 
follow him, it doesn’t make any difference where 
he goes. He’s a good friend too, let me tell you, 
when he is a friend ; but if he’s an enemy ” 


A GREAT CHIEF 


I7I 

Adam stopped and drew in a long breath as if lan- 
guage had failed him to describe what Scanandoa 
was when his anger had been aroused. 

“And you’re sure he’s a good friend to us?” 

“Sure? I’m as sure as I am of you, David 
Hardin, and I don’t know but I’m a bit surer, for 
he wouldn’t let go his gun, no matter if forty 
canoes tipped over.” 

It occurred to David that possibly the mighty 
Scanandoa would not tip over any canoe in which 
he was paddling, but he discreetly held his peace, 
well knowing the sensitiveness of Adam touching 
that point. 

Does he know anything about Colonel Mel- 
lon ? ” he inquired. 

“ He does that, for he has just come from him.” 

“ Good ! But what makes you think that the 
Indians who were chasing us in the canoe won’t 
trouble us any more? ” 

“Because he says Saucy Nick is the leader and 
he will attend to him himself. You know Nick is 
the worst of the Oneidas, and he’s for war, though 
the rest of the tribe is for peace.” 

“ Yes, I know. And did Scanandoa say he would 
see him ? ” 

“Yes, he’s started for the river now. He won’t 
take much of a hand in the war, that is unless he 
just has to, but he’ll make Nick keep his hands off. 


1/2 


A GREAT CHIEF 


But Scanandoa tells me he doesn’t believe Colonel 
Mellon will ever get into Fort Schuyler alive.” 

“Why not? ” 

“ Because the redcoats and redskins will cut him 
off. Not here,” he added hastily, as he saw the 
look of consternation on David’s face, “ but nearer 
the fort. They’ll wait for him farther up the Mo- 
hawk. But come on ; we’ll do our part, anyway.” 

And without another word both men resumed 
their march, starting for the Mohawk at a point 
about three miles below where they had left it. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE SUMMONS FOR JONATHAN 
HE surprise of Jonathan Hardin when he be- 



^ held Sam Geake was stronger even than his 
feeling of weariness after the long and exciting 
watch of the night, and without waiting to secure 
his breakfast he at once turned and approached 
the beckoning man. 

“Why, Sam, I didn’t look to see you here,” he 
exclaimed. “You have a way of coming and go- 
ing that is wondrous strange. I cannot keep track 
of you.” 

“Nor can I of myself,” replied Sam. “’Tis 
enough to know that I am I, and here is here, 
though I am not sure we shall know that long.” 

“ Why not? ” 

“ ’Tis a sad day for Fort Schuyler and its men 
when such a sprig as Gansevoort can have his say ; 
and he is naught but a pig-headed Dutchman, who 
fails to read the signs of the times, though they be 
clear as the day.” 

As we know, Jonathan had not shared the sus- 
picions of his brother concerning Sam Geake ; but 
he had j'ust come from the northwest bastion and 


174 


THE SUMMONS FOR JONATHAN 


his good fortune in escaping the fate of his prede- 
cessors and the cordial words of the young com- 
mander were still fresh in his mind. He was, 
therefore, in no mood to listen to Sam’s slurs, 
though he had no good reason as yet to distrust 
the man himself 

“ You have no right or reason to speak so, Sam 
Geake !” he exclaimed indignantly. “Whether 
Colonel Gansevoort be young or old matters not ; 
but he was sent here for the defense of Fort Schuy- 
ler, and defend it he will till the last ditch is taken. 
What more would you have him do? ” 

“ If he could defend it I would have naught to 
say,” replied Sam, “but there is no defense possi- 
ble. I have been all around it and I can tell you 
it will go down before the first onslaught. There 
simply isn’t a ghost of a show for Gansevoort or 
the fort, and to hold on in the face of such fearful 
odds means nothing but a slaughter-pen for every 
soldier here. That’s just what ’twill be, Jonathan, 
for you and me and every one here, that is, if we 
decide to stay,” he added in a lower tone and 
glancing cautiously about him as he spoke. 

For a moment Jonathan was startled, so earnest 
and sincere did Sam appear to be, but his last 
words had made even the unsuspecting lad suspi- 
cious of the man before him. However, he did not 
give any expression to his feeling, and said gently : 


THE SUMMONS FOR JONATHAN 1 75 

“You take a sorry view, Sam Geake, and I can 
but say I rejoice that no one in the fort thinks as 
you do.” 

“Don’t be too sure of that,” responded Sam. 

“ You may not know what I do, that there really 
are many here who feel as I do about the pig- 
headed young Dutchman in command of us, and I 
shouldn’t be in the least surprised if a goodly num- 
ber should not be found when the colonel wakes 
up some fine morning and looks around for his 
garrison.” 

“ What ? Do you mean to say that there are 
men here who would think of deserting Colonel 
Gansevoort and the fort? I do not believe it ! ” 

“I say nothing,” replied Sam quickly, evidently 
somewhat taken back by the warmth of the young 
soldier’s words and desirous of creating a different 
impression in his mind now. “I say, as I have 
said, nothing,” he repeated, “except that it does 
not seem wise to me to try to hold the fort, and 
that I am not alone in my way of thinking, either.” , 
“I wish David were here. I don’t know what 
he would say or do though, if he should hear you 
speak of deserting the fort.” Jonathan was still 
warm over the suggestion Sam had made and was 
in no mind to be easily calmed or to disregard 
what Sam evidently now was desirous that he 
should forget. 


1/6 


THE SUMMONS FOR JONATHAN 


“ I suppose you know where David is, don’t 
you ? ” inquired Sam. 

“Yes.” 

“I wish I did. I’d feel better, and I doubt not 
you would too.” 

“I know,” replied Jonathan confidently. “He 
told me before he started.” 

“ He told me after he started, but that doesn’t 
prove anything now.” 

“Have you seen him?” inquired Jonathan 
eagerly, all other things instantly forgotten. 

“Yes, I saw him yesterday afternoon.” 

“ Where was he ? There wasn’t anything wrong, 
was there? Tell me, Sam, tell me.” 

“There wasn’t anything out o’ the way just at 
that particular time.” 

“ But you’ve heard something or seen something. 
I know you have, Sam. Tell me what it was. Was 
he in trouble ? Had anything happened to him ? ” 

“Not then. I’m telling you. In cour.se I don’t 
know what happened afterward.” 

“What could happen afterward, Sam? I wish 
you would tell me. I think I’ll go to the colonel 
right away,” and Jonathan made as if he was about 
to depart. 

“Hold on, Jonathan,” said Sam quickly. “I’ll 
tell ye all I know. I met David a piece back here 
by the river and he told me a tale of how he had 


THE SUMMONS FOR JONATHAN 1/7 

started down the Mohawk to meet Colonel Mellon 
and his men.” 

“ He told you truly, then, for that was what he 
was planning to do.” 

“ I’m not denyin’ it, though I confess I have had 
my doubts about there being any Colonel Mellon. 
It may be just one o’ those cock-and-bull stories 
got up to hold the men here for a spell longer. 
And I tell you, Jonathan, the first thing I thought 
of when I met Dave back there was that he’d 
cleared out o’ the fort to save his own bacon, 
knowin’ as I did that he wasn’t the only one who 
was minded so to do. Oh, hold on,” he added 
quickly, “ye needn’t get so huffy about it. I 
didn’t say ’twas so, did I? I only said I sus- 
picioned it when I first met him back there.” 

“ When did you leave him ? What was he doing ? 
You know, Sam Geake, my brother David never 
thought of such a thing as you are charging him 
with. You are so scared yourself you think every 
other man is a coward too.” 

Sam’s eyes flashed for a moment at the young 
soldier’s words, but instantly restraining the im- 
pulse which had seized upon him, he said slowly : 
“You’re altogether too sharp with that tongue o’ 
yours for a boy. If I treated you as you deserved 
I’d just lay you across my knee and use my slipper 
for about ten minutes and you’d be singing another 

M 


178 THE SUMMONS FOR JONATHAN 

song. I didn’t say I suspected Dave, I only said 
I suspicioned him. But I have my doubts as to 
whether either you or I’ll ever know the truth o’ 
the matter.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Because there are those in the woods who may 
not be inclined to give him time to explain him- 
self.” 

“ Do you mean the Indians ? ” inquired Jonathan 
anxiously. 

“I mean them, an’ none besides. I’m fearful 
they’ll attend to his case afore he can explain all 
he wants to. The woods are full of ’em.” 

“ Dave can take care of himself,” replied Jona- 
than, as he turned upon his heel and departed. 

In spite of his apparent confidence he was greatly 
troubled by what he had just heard. His sus- 
picions of Sam Geake were hardly strong enough 
to make him greatly alarmed, for he thought after 
all it was all a part of Sam’s “talk.” But what he 
had said concerning the peril besetting David, cer- 
tainly had much to confirm it, and Jonathan Hardin 
was anxious when he went to secure his breakfast. 
He made but few replies to the men who spoke to 
him concerning the success of his trick while on 
duty, and as soon as he had eaten his breakfast de- 
parted for his own quarters, where he threw himself 
upon his blanket and was soon in a deep sleep. 


THE SUMMONS FOR JONATHAN 1 79 

It was the middle of the afternoon when he 
awoke and when he opened his eyes his first thought 
was that some one had called him. A moment 
afterward he perceived that the impression had 
been correct, for standing before him was the ser- 
geant of the guard. 

“Am I late? Did I sleep too long?” inquired 
Jonathan anxiously, rubbing his eyes and striving 
to appear wide-awake. 

“ Not too long, though long enough. Sleep is 
wasted time, or that’s what my old father used to 
tell me. He seemed to begrudge every minute 
we boys spent in bed, saying it was just so much 
time lost. He used to come to the foot of the lad- 
der in the mornin’ and call out for us, and if he 
didn’t hear us right away, up the ladder he’d come 
and lay about him with his strap, or whatever he 
had in his hand. Many’s the trouncing I’ve had 
for not being out o’ bed the minute he called to us. 
He was a good father too, and you don’t find many 
like him these days.” 

Perhaps Jonathan was rejoiced that the dearth 
of such fond fathers as the sergeant depicted was 
so apparent. At all events his own experience had 
been markedly different from that of the old sol- 
dier, though he was aware that the genus had not 
altogether departed from the Mohawk Valley. But 
he made no response to the sergeant’s words except 


l80 THE SUMMONS FOR JONATHAN 

to rise from his blanket and prepare to accompany 
him to the duty to which he was to be assigned. 

“Why don’t you ask me what I’ve come for?” 
inquired the sergeant 

“Because I thought you’d tell me when you 
were ready.” 

The sergeant laughed, evidently pleased by the 
implied compliment of Jonathan’s words, and said : 
“ ’Tis Colonel Gansevoort himself who wants to see 
you.” 

“ What ? Who ? Wants to see me ? ” exclaimed 
Jonathan in surprise. 

“That’s what I said.” 

“ What does he want to .see me for ? When does 
he want to see me ? ” 

“Answer to question number one: he can tell 
ye himself when ye go to his quarters. Answer to 
question number two : forthwith, immediately, at 
once, right now. Double quick too, for he’s wait- 
ing for ye.” 

Jonathan perceived that in spite of the sergeant’s 
quizzical manner he evidently meant what he said, 
and realizing that it was a veritable summons from 
the colonel, he hastily prepared himself and then 
accompanied the sergeant to the quarters occupied 
by the commandant of Fort Schuyler. He said 
nothing to his companion on the way, though he 
was wondering what it was that Colonel Gansevoort 


THE SUMMONS FOR JONATHAN l8l 

wanted of him. He could not think of anything 
he had done to merit a censure, nor could he un- 
derstand what the commander could desire from 
him, one of the youngest members of the garrison 
of the old fort Well aware that he would soon 
understand, he wisely held his peace and soon drew 
near the colonel’s quarters. 

As he approached he perceived one of the older 
soldiers j*ust leaving the place as Jonathan was about 
to enter. The man was evidently excited and 
glanced expressively at the sergeant as he passed, 
though he did not speak. Wondering still more 
what it could all mean, Jonathan entered the room, 
but his surprise and confusion were both increased 
when he discovered that many of the leading officers 
of the fort were also there. Colonel Gansevoort 
was seated before a table busily writing and near 
him were Colonel Willett and Captain Roof and a 
number of others whom Jonathan knew by name 
and sight. But the most puzzling part of his dis- 
covery was that Sam Geake was also in the room. 
He glanced apprehensively at Jonathan as the lad 
entered, and in a brief time the meaning of the 
strange assembly was explained and Jonathan 
Hardin’s heart was filled with a new fear. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE TRIAL 

I T was Colonel Gansevoort himself who first 
spoke, and as Jonathan glanced at the young 
commander he could see that he was seriously 
troubled. Indeed, it seemed as if he had aged 
greatly within the few hours since Jonathan had 
last seen him and heard his words in praise of the 
successful ruse by which the sharpshooter had been 
dropped from his place in the treetops. Deep lines 
had come in his face and it was evident that he 
had not slept for a long time. Perplexed as he 
was, Jonathan nevertheless replied to the questions 
asked him by the young colonel and gave the date 
of his birth, the time of his enlistment, the regi- 
ment to which he belonged, and various other 
questions, the bearing of which was all a mystery 
to him. He could not fail to see that Sam Geake 
was listening intently to all that was said and his 
face bore an expression not unlike that of some 
frightened animal when it has been driven to bay 
by a hunter and his dogs. 

“ How long have you known this man Samuel 
Geake?” inquired Colonel Gansevoort. 

182 


THE TRIAL I 83 

“I can’t tell just how long,” replied Jonathan 
wonderingly. 

“You have known him several years?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Five years ? ” 

“ I think so. He used to come up the valley 
before the war broke out.” 

“You have seen him at various times within this 
fort? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And you have known that he was free to come 
and go as he chose ? ” 

“ I knew that he was gone a good many times, 
though I never knew why.” 

“ Have you ever seen or heard anything from 
him to lead you to suspect him of being a spy? ” 

“No, sir, that is — I — no, sir, I never thought he 
was thaty 

The relief expressed by Sam’s face was almost 
as marked as the evident surprise of Colonel Ganse- 
voort at Jonathan’s reply. But the examination 
was not yet ended, for the colonel glancing keenly 
at the young soldier said quietly : “Tell us, Jona- 
than Hardin, whether you ever heard this man, 
Samuel Geake, use any expression that led you to 
believe his patriotism was not to be relied upon.” 

Jonathan hesitated a moment before he replied. 
His latest interview with Sam had been one that 


84 


THE TRIAL 


had perplexed him sadly, but up to that time he 
had never thought of questioning the man’s in- 
tegrity. He disliked in any way to increase the 
peril in which he now saw that Sam Geake was 
placed, for all that he had to give was mere sus- 
picion. He had no absolute knowledge of the 
man’s doings, but several things flashed into his 
mind at the moment which, placed by the side of 
the charge for which Sam was now being tried, ap- 
peared in a new and worse light than when first 
they had been observed. 

Perhaps you may have heard your brother 
David say something concerning his own know- 
ledge or fears of the accused,” suggested Colonel 
Gansevoort kindly, seeing the confusion of the lad. 

“ No, sir ; I never heard David say he was sus- 
picious of him, though I knew he didn’t like him 
very well.” 

“ What made David dislike him ? ” 

“ He never told me.” 

^‘And you say you yourself have neither seen 
nor heard anything which in any way caused you 
to suspect the accused? ” 

“Yes, sir, I did say so.” 

“ Do you still say the same thing? ” 

“ A man ought not to say what he thinks, but 
what he knows, when he is testifying in such a case 
as this, oughtn’t he?” stammered Jonathan. 


THE TRIAL 


85 


“ He should be careful, there is no doubt as to 
that,” replied the colonel kindly; “but his sus- 
picions may fit in with the knowledge others may 
have. You need have no fear, Jonathan Hardin, 
that your testimony will carry undue weight or will 
be taken for more than it is worth. But the safety 
of the fort and the life of every man here may de- 
pend upon what the outcome of this trial shall be. 
So I charge you, Jonathan, to tell us what may be 
in your mind.” 

Thus bidden Jonathan said slowly, not glancing 
toward Sam as he spoke : “There is one thing per- 
haps I ought to say. Sam has a good many times 
said to me that this fort ought not to be held, with 
so many of the enemy surrounding it, and that it 
wouldn’t be if the commander was an older man.” 

Colonel Gansevoort’s face flushed slightly at the 
words and in spite of the seriousness of the trial a 
faint smile seemed to pass over the countenances 
of the officers assembled there. It instantly passed, 
however, when the young commander said : “ I have 
only one question more, Jonathan, and that I ask 
in view of your latest statement. Have you ever 
heard the accused, or heard of others who heard, 
refer to the possibility of some men leaving the 
fort?” 

“Yes, sir, I have,” replied Jonathan in a low 


voice. 


THE TRIAL 


I 86 

“ Ah ! Tell us what it was.” 

“ It was only a few hours ago that Sam told me 
he knew that some of the men would not stay much 
longer in the fort, that they felt as he did, that it 
was worse than foolish to try to hold it and that if 
you didn’t do something soon, he or they would. 
I didn’t think it was anything more than talk 
though, and had almost forgotten it.” 

“ Colonel Gansevoort,” interrupted Colonel Wil- 
lett, “I do not see that we need waste any more 
time on this rascal. The word of this witness is 
right in line with all the testimony we have heard 
and there is too much to be done for us to delay 
longer.” 

“ I wish to give the accused every opportunity 
to clear himself,” replied Colonel Gansevoort, the 
expression on his face becoming still more serious. 

“ He has had that and far more than he deseiwes. 
Mercy is not the quality such a double-dyed villain 
demands. We have proved beyond the shadow of 
a doubt that he is an emissary of Sir Henry Clinton 
and has been sent here into Fort Schuyler to learn 
our plans and defenses and the number of men be- 
hind these walls, to tamper with their loyalty to 
the cause, and to betray us into the hands of our 
enemies. To me it does not seem that what such 
a man demands is mercy, but justice. To my mind 
a halter or a bullet is too good for such as he.” 


THE TRIAL 


87 


Colonel Willett’s feeling was deep and strong 
and manifestly expressed the sentiments of most 
of the assembly. The speaker was the idol of his 
men, and though almost reckless at times in his 
daring, still his very recklessness was contagious, 
and few indeed in the Continental army were the 
officers whose followers would keep so close, no 
matter into what they were led, as Colonel Willett’s. 

Colonel Gansevoort, though much younger than 
his comrade in arms, was nevertheless not so im- 
pulsive and therefore, perhaps, the better leader, 
though his bravery was not one whit in advance of 
that of the older man. Jonathan had glanced from 
one to the other and though he realized that his 
own duty was done, still he did not depart Trom 
the room, nor was he minded to do so before he 
was ordered to leave. The scene was strangely 
fascinating to him. The anger of the men present 
was intense and though he did not fully understand 
the charge which had been brought against Sam 
Geake, he comprehended sufficient to make him 
sympathize with Colonel Willett and feel also a 
blaze of anger against the treacherous spy. 

The lad now glanced at Sam and saw that his 
face was livid and his body was trembling so that 
the wretched man could hardly stand. Appar- 
ently Sam had forgotten his presence now and 
was gazing into the face of Colonel Gansevoort 


88 


THE TRIAL 


with an agonized expression that under other cir- 
cumstances might have moved the hardest heart 
to pity. As it was, there was no sympathy for the 
prisoner, whose guilt had been conclusively proved. 

Colonel Gansevoort now began to speak and the 
room was instantly silent. The young commander 
spoke slowly and deliberately. Step by step he 
traced the proofs of the crime of Sam Geake. His 
own actions, the confidence he himself had be- 
stowed upon him, a confidence basely abused, the 
testimony of those who had known whereof they 
spoke, the plans of the prisoner to throw open the 
gates and to lead out as many of the garrison as 
would follow, the communication he had already 
had with some of the emissaries of Sir Henry 
Clinton outside the fort, and last of all the incrim- 
inating letters and plans and statements as to 
the resources and numbers of defenders of Fort 
Schuyler which had been found upon his person, 
were all considered. The eyes of the colonel flashed 
as he went on and Jonathan felt a sense of fear 
creep over him as he saw the tall, athletic form of 
the young commander respond to his excitement. 
Still the colonel spoke calmly and even went on to 
consider the matter of a delay in the sentence. 
The situation was too serious to admit of long 
delay, however, and in a brief time every officer 
present had expressed his conviction that Sam 


THE TRIAL I 89 

Geake should “ be hanged by the neck until he 
was dead.” 

The condemned man had listened as if he was 
dazed and did not comprehend what was being 
said. When at last the colonel had pronounced 
the sentence he seemed to rally and with his voice 
rising almost into a scream, he cried out : 

“ Colonel Gansevoort, you’ll not do what you 
say ! Surely, surely you will listen to me ! Hear 
me ! Oh, please hear me ! I beg of you to listen 
to me while I say just one word !” 

There were tears in the eyes of the colonel as he 
said : “ Yes, we’ll listen to a word, though a just 
sentence has been passed upon you and it is too 
late for further pleading. Nevertheless, say on.” 

“You’ll listen to me, I know you will,” said 
Sam, his voice trembling and his body shaking 
violently as he spoke, “when I tell you I’m not the 
only one concerned in this scrape. You’ll give me 
a chance to plead for my life if I’ll promise to tell 
you who is in the plot besides myself?” 

Sam’s words evidently startled the company, and 
for a moment Colonel Gansevoort glanced keenly 
at Colonel Willett. Perceiving that doughty war- 
rior slightly to nod his head in approbation of the 
implied proposal, he turned to Sam and said : “Is 
this another of your tricks, or do you really mean 
to tell us of your companions in crime?” 


90 


THE TRIAL 


“I mean to tell you,” whined Sam. “I’ll tell 
you the whole thing, from beginning to end, if you’ll 
only wait and listen to me. You wouldn’t treat 
even a dog as you are treating me. Just give me 
a chance to speak and I’ll tell you everything, 
everything.” 

“Say what you have to say,” said Colonel Ganse- 
voort sternly, “and be done with such driveling 
whining. Speak, man ! ” 

Thus bidden, Sam Geake began glibly to explain 
and in a moment every man in the room was lis- 
tening with breathless interest to what he was 
saying. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE MEETING WITH HAN YOST 

S CANANDOA is the biggest redskin ever seen 
in these parts, I’m thinkin’.” 

Adam Helmer and his young comrade, David 
Hardin, had been walking for an hour or more 
through the woods when the old hunter made the 
remark which we have quoted. The twilight had 
departed by this time and only the dim light re- 
flected from the summer sky enabled them to find 
their way through the apparently trackless forest. 
Neither had spoken since they had started on the 
final march for the Mohawk, and Adam’s words 
were almost startling, so sudden and unexpected 
were they to the younger man. 

“Yes, he is a large man,” responded David. 
“ You don’t often see a bigger.” 

“ I wasn’t referrin’ to his body, but to what was 
inside his body, for in my opinion the true Scan- 
andoa is a sight bigger than even the big body he 
occupies for the present time being.” 

“Yes,” remarked David, whose thoughts, to tell 
the truth, were far more of their own immediate 
and perplexing problem than of the noble red man. 


192 


THE MEETING WITH HAN YOST 


“Yes, sir,” continued Adam, “ and do you know 
he’s the only Indian I ever heard of who wouldn’t 
touch firewater ? If it wasn’t for that stuff I don’t 
believe the redcoats could get a single redskin to 
help ’em. That’s the trouble with Cornplanter and 
Saucy Nick and all the rest. When they get filled 
full o’ firewater they’re ready to do anything and 
everything the fellows who give them the stuff tell 
’em to do.” 

“And you say Scanandoa doesn’t take any of 
it?” 

“ Not a drop. Not a drop. Not but what he 
did once upon a time, though. I heard the story 
away back when I was but a boy, of how he went 
to Albany one time — that was long afore ’twas any 
such sizable town as it is now — and put up at a 
tavern where they fed him on whisky. He was a 
young Indian then, leastwise about forty-five year 
younger’ n he is nowadays, and o’ course couldn’t 
be expected to know much. Well, the story goes 
that he swallowed more than was good for him — 
not that any o’ the stuff is ever good for much — and 
they say as how he proceeded to make things 
somewhat lively in that ’ere tavern place. When 
the light o’ mornin’ came, Scanandoa was all 
sobered up, but that didn’t do much good to the 
old chap. He’d knocked out the windows and 
smashed the dishes and tables and chairs and 'twas 


THE MEETING WITH HAN YOST 1 93 

a pretty lookin’ sight. Well, sir, that Indian was 
the most ’shamed man you ever heard tell of, and 
he decided then and there that as for him he’d 
done with firewater for evermore and the day after. 
And, sir, he’s kept to it right straight up to this 
very time.” 

“That’s good,” replied David; “but are you sure 
we’re on the right path here? ” 

“Certain sure. Scanandoa told me all about it. 
As I was a sayin’, he’s the best of the Oneidas and 
the Oneidas are the best of all the Indians in the 
Mohawk Valley or the regions thereof and round 
about. They’re better lookin’, better behaved, and 
aren’t half as cruel as the Mohawks. I sometimes 
think they’re most as good as the white men — as 
we are, David Hardin.” 

“They certainly don’t fight as much as the others 
do.” 

“No, though when they get to fightin’ ye want 
to look out. Did I ever tell ye about the way they 
do their fishin’ up here in Fish Creek? ” 

“No. But, Adam, do you think it’s safe for us 
to talk? We might be overheard, and the Oneidas 
aren’t the only Indians hereabouts.” 

“Well, I’ll tell ye, then, about their annual fishin’ 
there,” said Adam, ignoring David’s question. “It 
takes place once every year along in the spring. I 
b’lieve it’s when the leaves on the trees get to be 

N 


194 


THE MEETING WITH HAN YOST 


about the size of a fox’s ear. They’re very partic- 
ular about that, and watch the cornin’ out o’ the 
leaves as careful as I tend my traps. It’s a big day 
to the whole tribe, and they have all sorts o’ curious 
ceremonies, and what’s more, when they move up 
to Fish Creek to do their fishin’, every family is 
expected to come along too, or they’ll know the 
reason why. Well, when they get up there to the 
proper place, the first thing they do is to drive a 
row o’ stakes across the stream and then they weave 
in a lot o’ saplings and branches and roots and all 
sorts o’ things, so that it makes a dam across the 
creek, only, ye see, the water can go straight 
through, so ’tisn’t jest like a dam after all. Then 
the warriors go up the stream a ways and drive 
every salmon down the creek straight toward the 
breastwork. It’s curious the way they seem to 
know just where those salmon hide, and they don’t 
leave many behind, you can believe. Then after 
they’ve driven the fish down to the stakes, they 
take and drive another row o’ stakes across the 
stream just like the first, only it’s two or three rods 
up the creek, and there they have those salmon 
penned in, same’s we treat our cattle. All the old 
men and the women and boys, and girls too, for 
the matter o’ that, have been stationed at the lower 
row o’ stakes an’ all along the banks nearby thereof, 
an’ then the fun begins. The warriors use their 


THE MEETING WITH HAN YOST 


195 


spears and the others have sharp sticks and the 
way they make that water begin to hum is a caution. 
What they’re aimin’ to do is to spear the salmon 
arid throw ’em up on the banks ; but some o’ them, 
as I said, only have sharp sticks, and when they jab 
a salmon what is sizable and plumb full o’ grit and 
fire, they can’t always hang on to him. But they 
manage to damage his runnin’ gear even when they 
can’t throw him up on the bank and the women an’ 
boys are on the lookout for just such victims, an’ 
’tisn’t often one manages to get away. And there’s 
such a powwow while all this is goin’ on you could 
hear it a mile away. The men shout and the women 
squeal an’ the boys yell and even the little pap- 
pooses join in on the chorus. ’Tis a most invigor- 
atin’ sight, David Hardin, and good to see, as I 
have seen it many a time along with Scanandoa.” 

“ What do they do with the fish they catch ? ” 
inquired David. 

“Well, that’s a fine question, I must say,” snorted 
Adam. “What do ye s’ pose they do with ’em? 
Hang ’em up for to ornament their wigwams ? Or 
maybe ye thought they hung ’em ’round their 
necks for charms. Perhaps ye thought they used 
’em to shoot out o’ their bows.” 

“Oh, no, not quite so bad as that,” laughed 
David ; “ but I was wondering what they could do 
with so many, for they must have a big catch.” 


196 THE MEETING WITH HAN YOST 

“They do, but it’s surprisin’ how they evaporate. 
The Oneidas are powerful ones to eat, when they 
once get good and started. I’ve seen Scanandoa 
put himself outside a three pound salmon and 
never seem to mind it a bit. That salmon would 
be a sportin’ ’round in his native element as gentle 
as a lamb and then in precisely one hour from that 
time he’d be a part o’ Scanandoa, chief o’ the 
Oneidas.” 

“I trust the salmon duly appreciated the promo- 
tion and change.” 

“Can’t say as to that, though I never heard as 
how any of ’em ever made any complaints. But I 
was speakin’ o’ what they did with the fish. First 
they have a feast, pickin’ out the biggest and best 
o’ the salmon, and after every one has eaten all he 
can hold, and some besides, they divide up the rest 
among the families, an’ roast salmon, boiled salmon, 
broiled salmon is the order of the day, till every 
fish is gone. I declare it most seems sometimes 
as if the whole tribe would turn into a salmon an’ 
you would see fins an’ scales croppin’ out on all 
sides.” 

During Adam’s description of the annual fishing 
day of the Oneida Indians both he and David had 
been advancing steadily on their way. The confi- 
dence of the hunter that their difficulties lay behind 
them was not entirely shared by David, as we know, 


THE MEETING WITH HAN YOST 


197 


but thus far they had not been molested and the 
river was now not far away, and soon, if Scanandoa’s 
report was to be believed, they would meet the 
advancing party of Colonel Mellon. 

The two had now entered a pathway or rude 
road which Adam recognized as one that led to a 
mill on the bank of the swift-flowing Mohawk. He 
confidently declared they were not far from the 
river now and at his word David began to quicken 
his steps, though he was beginning to feel the effect 
of his long march. 

Suddenly Adam stopped and after listening in- 
tently for a moment said in a low voice : “ There’s 
some one coming, lad. Let us go into these bushes 
and find out who it is, for ’tis a white man of some 
kind.” 

David quickly responded and in a moment both 
men were concealed behind the bushes and were 
peering intently up the road waiting for the coming 
of the man whom both of them could now distinctly 
hear. Soon the heavy slouching form could be 
seen and whoever he was he evidently was at no 
pains to conceal himself, for he was talking to him- 
self and at times broke into a song which resounded 
through the forest. 

“ ’Tis Han Yost Schuyler,” said David quickly 
as he recognized the new-comer, and in a moment 
both men were in the road waiting for the boy. 


198 THE MEETING WITH HAN YOST 

Evidently Han Yost was not alarmed when he 
discovered their presence and in his slow, ponder- 
ous manner soon drew near. 

“Han Yost, you travel late,” said David as the 
lad halted. 

“Yah,” replied Han Yost indifferently. 

“Where are you going now? You ought to be 
home and in bed,” said Adam. 

Han Yost grunted but made no other reply. 

“Where are you going? ” repeated Adam. 

“Vere vas Mynderse ? ” inquired Han Yost. 

“ Have you seen him ? Do you know where he 
is?” inquired David eagerly. 

“ Yah, I haf seen.” 

“Where is he? ” 

“ He vas mit de men.” 

“ What men ? The redcoats or the Indians ? ” 

“ I tink he vas.” 

“ But what men ?” 

“ I haf tolt you.” 

“No, you didn’t tell us. Where was he? Did 
you really see him yourself, or have you only heard 
where he was ? Tell us, Han Yost, tell us ! ” 

“ I haf seen him.” 

“Was he well? Was he all right?” inquired 
David, almost in despair. 

“ He vas petter somedimes, he vas not so goot 
somedimes.” 


THE MEETING WITH HAN YOST 1 99 

“But he was alive, anyway, and that’s some- 
thing. Where was it you saw him ? ’’ 

Han Yost’s little eyes glanced keenly at David, 
but in the darkness the expression could not be seen. 
“ Yah, he vas alife I tolt you. He vas petter some- 
dimes, somedimes he vas not so goot. Dot vas 
shust how it vas.” 

“Han Yost,” said Adam sternly, “you have 
been back in the woods where Brant and Barry St. 
Leger are. You want to look out or some one 
will hang you for a spy. You’d better keep to 
your own lines.” 

Adam was not at all positive that he spoke truly, 
but he ventured to test the charge, hoping that 
Han Yost, who in the region had the reputation of 
being half-witted, would say something that would 
perhaps disclose something which his reference to 
the missing Mynderse seemed to indicate that he 
knew. But if such was Adam’s hope he was 
doomed to disappointment, for the phlegmatic and 
provoking Han Yost merely became silent and re- 
sumed his walk. 

Adam and David at once started in his com- 
pany and for a time the trio trudged on in silence. 
They had not gone far before they discovered a 
little house by the roadside and the faint light 
which glimmered from its lower windows indicated 
that some one was astir within. 


200 


THE MEETING WITH HAN YOST 


Adam instantly recognized the abode, but he did 
not refer to his discovery and in a brief time Han 
Yost turned into the lane and approached the front 
door, Adam and David still remaining by his side, 
though the young soldier could not understand his 
companion’s fear. 

In response to Han Yost’s knock the door was 
opened and to the surprise of Adam and David, at 
least, a force of men was seen in the room. Adam 
instantly recognized several of those who were pres- 
ent, and it became evident that the recognition 
was mutual, for at a startled word from one, several 
of the men reached for their guns and made as if 
they were about to start for the door. 

Without waiting to learn more, Adam and David 
turned and ran, and behind them they could hear 
the loud empty laughter of Han Yost Schuyler, 
who apparently was the only one to enjoy the un- 
expected meeting. 


CHAPTER XXII 


Mellon’s scout 



S soon as it became evident that they were not 


pursued, Adam ceased to run and turning 
to his companion said : “ They’ll not follow us, lad. 
If the truth were known, I doubt not every one of 
those fellows is as far to the other side of the Shoe- 
makers’ place by this time as we are on this side.” 

“ I don’t understand what it’s all about, any- 
way,” said David. “What were we running for 
and why should those men we saw now be as far 
as we are from the house? I don’t see, for my 


part.” 


“ ’Tis as plain as daylight. ’Twas a good one 
on Han Yost Schuyler too.” 

“ I wish you would explain it then.” 

“ Why the place back there was the Shoemakers’. 
I doubt not you know them, for there be few Whigs 
in the valley who have not good cause to mind 
them well. They are rank and rabid Tories, but 
I could forgive them for that, for it may be that 
they have as good a right to their opinion as I have 
to mine, though it’s sure I am that I cannot be 
wrong. But the Shoemakers are doing their best 


201 


202 


Mellon’s scout 


to keep the enemy informed as to the movements 
both up and down the Mohawk, and many is the 
time of late when there has been a gathering of 
men there whose necks would adorn a halter. I 
am not the only one to suspect them, and I shall 
report what I have this night seen to General Nick 
Herkimer. The place should be burned out, the 
same as I would treat a nest o’ adders.” 

“But what do you think Han Yost Schuyler had 
to do with it? Han is naught but a poor, half- 
witted lad and it seems strange that he should have 
anything to do with the Shoemakers or they with 
him. Perhaps Sam Geake could explain it.” 

“ Nay, talk not of Sam Geake ; but as to the lad, 
Han Yost Schuyler, the explanation is easy. He is 
but half-witted, as you say, but that is the very 
reason why he is a good tool in their hands. The 
Indians never harm one afflicted in that wise, for 
they think he is under the special favor of the 
^ Great Spirit, and who knows but he may be ? Of 
course those who know Han Yost, I mean among 
the whites, would not trouble the poor lad and so 
he is the very one the Tories would naturally use. 
But I very much fear me that Han Yost Schuyler 
is far more likely to make fools of the neighbors 
than they are of him, for in spite of all that is said, 
he is no such fool as at times he gets the credit of 


MELLON S SCOUT 


203 


“ I have oftentimes been of the same opinion 
myself But is not that the Mohawk before us? ” 

“Yes, ’tis the river,” replied the hunter, “and 
Colonel Mellon and his men will pass this spot 
soon now ; that is if Scanandoa’s word is to be be- 
lieved, and I would trust my life upon it.” 

In the clear summer night the river shone like 
silver and the noise of its waters was like a lullaby, 
so monotonous and soothing was it to the ears of 
the wearied David. He had known but little rest 
since he had departed from Fort Schuyler and the 
effect of his exertions was now beginning to mani- 
fest itself 

At Adam’s word the young soldier stretched 
himself upon the ground, and in spite of his eager- 
ness to bear his message to the colonel he was soon 
sleeping as soundly as a tired child. The hunter 
had promised to keep guard and feeling even more 
confidence in Adam’s ability than in his own he 
had rested content. How long David slept he did 
not know, but when he awoke he discovered that 
some one was talking to Adam. Evidently the 
man was a white, but his voice was strange and 
unfamiliar, and for a brief time David listened as 
if he was only partly aware of what was going on 
about him. 

In a moment, however, he leaped to his feet and 
joined the men, for he had heard a name which at 


204 


Mellon’s scout 


once aroused him and called back to his mind the 
events of the preceding day. 

“ What is it, Adam ? ” he inquired eagerly, as he 
approached the two men who were seated on the 
high bank at a place where they could look far up 
and down the Mohawk River. Daylight had not 
yet appeared, but from the stirring among the birds 
and the appearance of the eastern sky it was evi- 
dent that it would soon be at hand. 

“’Tis one of Mellon’s men,” replied Adam. 
“ He is one of the scouts and goes in advance of 
the division to scent danger.” 

“And plenty of it he found too, if reports and 
signs are to be believed,” said the man, who did 
not rise from his position as David approached. 

“How far away is the colonel now?” inquired 
David eagerly. 

“ It depends on whether you count by time or 
leagues. If by time it should not be more than a 
half hour before he comes as far up the Mohawk 
as this. If by distance, I do not believe he is more 
than a half-mile away, but ’tis a hard river to ascend 
and a wild country to pass through, as many a man 
has found to his sorrow.” 

“Nay, ’tis a goodly land,” said Adam sharply. 
“To one who has journeyed much ’tis evident no 
better part o’ the globe is to be found than in the 
valley of the Mohawk.” 


Mellon’s scout 


205 


“ Have it your own way,” laughed the man good- 
naturedly ; “ but could you once hear the remarks 
of the colonel it might lead you to change your 
tune. ’Tis fuming and storming he has been ever 
since we left Albany.” 

“ He might better have used his time and strength 
to hasten,” growled Adam, “than to waste both in 
raging ’gainst the garden spot o’ the whole Colo- 
nies. I fancy Colonel Gansevoort back at Fort 
Schuyler might use his speed to better advantage 
than his complainings.” 

“Colonel Mellon is a careful man,” retorted the 
scout, “ and takes no unnecessary risk. His men 
are divided into bands and take their turns in draw- 
ing the bateaux up the river. Then some are un- 
der arms all the time and he is careful with his 
flanking parties, and these, with his scouts, aid him 
mightily in guarding against surprises.” 

“ I find no fault with his carefulness, but I have 
little to say for his growling over the valley of the 
Mohawk. Why, man, ’tis the garden o’ the Lord. 
A fairer region neither he nor you ever beheld. 
Nay, he should not abuse his best friends.” 

“ He has no abuse for his friends,” laughed the 
scout, “ nor has he any complaints against the fair- 
ness o’ the region ; but the Mohawk is not the best 
river in the world to drag two heavy-laden bateaux 
up, as you might find out, Adam Helmer, if you 


206 


Mellon’s scout 


should take your turn at the ropes or with one o’ 
the poles, I’m thinkin’.” 

“Well, be that as it may,” responded Adam, “I 
think this lad here and I will proceed to go on and 
see if we can’t put a little more pepper into the 
colonel’s men. Colonel Gansevoort is in dire straits 
and even now it may be too late to aid him.” 

“Say you so?” inquired the scout sharply. 
“ Why then do you delay here and keep me as 
well from my task ? ” 

“ I keep no man from his duty,” retorted Adam. 
“ ’Tis like we’ll meet again soon, for all the men of 
the region seem pouring into one place, the same 
as water runs out of a spout.” 

“I have some jerked beef here and will be glad 
to share with you,” suggested the scout as all three 
rose to their feet and prepared to depart, each in 
his own way. 

“I thank you and so does this lad,” replied 
Adam soberly. “But we’ll not delay longer and 
will trust to find somewhat with Mellon’s men.” 

As Adam and David proceeded on their way 
down the bank of the river the hunter explained 
how it was that he had fallen in with the scout, 
who, as it proved, was an old acquaintance, and 
though not very familiar with the region through 
which Colonel Mellon was now passing, had never- 
theless been selected by him because of his long ex- 


Mellon’s scout 207 

perience in dealing with Indians and the confidence 
felt in his judgment. 

This confidence apparently was not shared by 
Adam, who described how the man had approached 
the spot where he was, without discovering his 
presence until the hunter had risen directly in his 
pathway. 

“ Had I been so minded I might have brought 
him down with a shot and no one would have been 
the wiser. He should have known some one was 
there, but there are mighty few men that can tell 
what’s afore ’em unless they have had the training 
which can’t be had outside the Mohawk Valley.” 

David did not feel called upon to respond to 
the implied boast of his comrade and for a time 
the two men walked on in silence. They had not 
gone far, however, before to their great delight, 
they discovered the approaching force for which 
they had so long been searching. A long line of 
men were pulling on the ropes and dragging the 
heavy bateaux up the stream. Others were march- 
ing in irregular lines and soon the colonel himself 
was discovered. 

The message of Adam and David was speedily 
delivered and though the leader had been aware 
of the need of haste on his part, he had not known 
of the dire peril of the fort. But he was a man of 
energy and of resources and instantly there was a 


208 


Mellon’s scout 


call for the men to increase their efforts, a call to 
which every one responded willingly. 

David Hardin now took his part in the labor of 
the men, but when they came near to Fort Dayton, 
Adam left them to return to the army of General 
Herkimer in which he belonged. He assured 
David that doubtless he would soon see him again, 
a prophecy which was fulfilled in a manner that 
certainly was startling and unexpected by both. 

All through the day and the following night the 
men toiled, and as they came nearer to the be- 
sieged fort, the recurring reports, which messen- 
gers and scouts alike brought in, of the presence 
of danger, served to increase their zeal. But early 
on the following day their destination was gained 
and then eagerly they began to transfer the cargoes 
of the bateaux to the fort. Men from the garrison 
assisted in the labor and side by side David and 
Jonathan Hardin worked. There had been no time 
for conversation or even for greetings. When at 
last the load was ready both the boys were assist- 
ing in its transfer. 

As they came near to the walls of the fort a 
shout of warning went up, and glancing behind 
them the men could see a great crowd of the red 
men advancing from the forest. In an instant their 
fearful cries rang out and with a rush the Indians 
started swiftly in pursuit. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE PROCLAMATION 

F or a time the excitement both within and 
without the fort was most intense. Men 
were shouting and brandishing their arms, the fear- 
ful cries of the swiftly advancing Indians and the 
calls of warning and encouragement from the 
soldiers upon the walls of the old fort rang out in 
confusion, and in the midst, between friends and 
foes were the struggling Americans, who were put- 
ting forth every endeavor to gain the shelter and 
safety of the garrison. 

David and Jonathan Hardin were side by side 
and for a moment it seemed as if the younger in 
his terror was about to leave his brother and aban- 
don all else in the one desperate attempt to enter 
the fort ; but though David was frightened, he was, 
as we know, somewhat cooler than the impulsive 
Jonathan, and he said to his brother in a low voice : 

“ No, no, Jonathan. We’ll stand or fall together. 
Keep hold of the rope and pull for your life. Keep 
cool ; ’tis our only hope.” 

David’s words in a measure served to recall the 
terror-stricken Jonathan, and though the sight of 
o 209 


210 


THE PROCLAMATION 


the advancing Indians and the sound of their 
whoops and cries might well have caused an older 
and more experienced soldier than was young 
Jonathan Hardin to lose heart, neverthless, he took 
a firm grasp on the rope, and as all the men seemed 
to be animated by a common purpose, their speed 
was increased and the heavy load was dragged 
nearer and nearer to its destination. 

A band of men now advanced from the fort and 
rushing to the aid of their companions they too 
seized the ropes and, encouraged by the timely 
assistance and roused by the shouts and calls of 
cheer from those who in the fort were breathless 
watchers of the exciting race, a new impulse seemed 
to have seized upon all. Swiftly and still more 
swiftly the load was dragged forward and soon 
they were almost within reach of the longed-for 
shelter. The pursuing Indians, unincumbered as 
they were, were able to gain rapidly upon those 
whom they were following. It had now become 
evident, however, that they would not be able to 
overtake the men before they would gain the en- 
trance to the fort, and so halting for a moment 
they raised their guns and fired at the desperate 
soldiers. One of the men nearest David and 
Jonathan threw up his hands and with a loud cry 
fell forward upon his face, but his struggling com- 
panions, in their frenzy not even stopping to aid 


the proclamation 


211 


him, plunged forward and in a moment were among 
their friends and had gained the place of safety. 

The cry of rejoicing that rang out as the men 
entered with their burden did not turn David Har- 
din’s thoughts for a moment from his fallen com- 
rade. Looking back he could see the man lying 
still and motionless upon the ground where he had 
fallen, and but a few rods behind him were the 
advancing savages. 

At that moment Captain Roof, realizing what was 
about to take place, gave the word to the men to 
fire. As the report of their guns rang out the 
Indians faltered for a moment, then turning abruptly 
back rushed toward the shelter of the surrounding 
forest, leaving the fallen man where he was. 

Obtaining permission from the captain, David 
coolly advanced from the fort and as he approached 
his comrade two or three guns were discharged at 
him from behind the distant trees, but though the 
bullets whistled close to his ears, not one of them 
did him any harm. Stooping quickly, not even 
waiting to discover whether the man was yet living 
or not, he lifted him in his arms and then as rapidly 
as he could bear his burden, made his way back to 
the fort. As he entered a wild cheer went up from 
the men and a score of hands at once relieved him 
of the load he had been carrying and even after it 
was discovered that the man was dead the enthusi- 


212 


THE PROCLAMATION 


asm of the soldiers over the brave deed of David 
voiced itself in such shouts and cheers as are 
seldom heard. 

It was now evident that the siege of Fort Schuy- 
ler was at last begun in dread earnest and that the 
straggling lines which had been seen for several 
days had drawn in closely and surrounded the fort. 
What the end was to be no man could say. The 
number of the defenders had been increased by the 
arrival of Colonel Mellon and his men, but all 
together they did not number more than seven 
hundred and fifty, while outside the fort was almost 
the same number of white men, regulars for the 
most part, and more than a thousand Indians. The 
supplies of the besieged had been increased by the 
addition of the cargoes of the two bateaux, but not 
even with that would they be enabled to withstand 
a protracted siege. 

But when Colonel Barry St. Leger sent in his 
demand for the surrender of the fort, the quiet 
and firm response which Colonel Gansevoort made, 
that the place would be held as long as it lay within 
the power of himself and his command to hold it, 
but expressed the sentiments of every man in the 
garrison. 

Colonel St. Leger led, or perhaps misled, by the 
prophecies and promises of Brant and Butler, had 
been confident that the people of the Mohawk 


THE PROCLAMATION 


213 


Valley would rally to his support and that the de- 
fense of Fort Schuyler would be but nominal. In 
his false confidence as he drew near the fort, he 
had caused to be scattered throughout the region 
copies of the following boastful proclamation, 
wherein he had but followed the example of the 
over-confident and boastful John Burgoyne. 

BY BARRY ST. LEGER, ESQ. 

Commander in Chief of a chosen Body of Troops 
from the Grand Army, as well as of an extensive 
Corps of Indian Allies from all the Nations, etc., 
etc. 

The Forces intrusted to my command are de- 
signed to act in concert, and upon a common prin- 
ciple, with the numerous Armies and Fleets which 
already display in every quarter of America, the 
power, the justice and, when properly sought, the 
mercy of the King. 

The cause in whi(!ih the British arms are thus ex- 
erted, applies to the most affecting interests of the 
human heart; and the military servants of the 
Crown, at first called forth for the sole purpose of 
restoring the rights of the Constitution, now com- 
bine with love of the country and duty to this 
Sovereign the other extensive incitements which 
spring from a due sense of the privilege of man- 
kind. To the eyes and ears of the temperate part 
of the public and to the breasts of suffering thou- 
sands in the Provinces, be the melancholy appeal, 
whether the present unnatural rebellion has not 


214 


THE PROCLAMATION 


been made the foundation for the completest sys- 
tem of tyranny that ever God in his displeasure 
suffered for a time to be exercised over a froward 
and stubborn generation. 

Arbitrary imprisonment, confiscation of property, 
persecution and torture, unprecedented in the In- 
quisitions of the Romish Church, are among the 
enormities that certify the affirmative. These are 
indicated by assemblies and committees, who dare 
to profess themselves friends to liberty, upon the 
most quiet subjects without distinction of age or 
sex, for the sole crime, often for the sole sus- 
picion, of having adhered in principle to the Gov- 
ernment under which they were born, and to which 
by every tye, divine and human, they own alle- 
giance, To consummate these shocking proceedings, 
the profanation of religion is added to the most 
profligate prostitution of common reason ; the con- 
sciences of men are set at naught ; and multitudes 
are compelled not only to bear arms, but also to 
swear subjection to an usurpation they abhor. 

Animated by these considerations, at the head 
of the troops in the full powers of health, discipline, 
and valour ; determined to strike where necessary 
and anxious to spare where possible ; I by these 
presents invite and exhort all persons in all places 
where the progress of this army may point, — and by 
the blessing of God, I will extend it, — to maintain 
sifch a conduct as may justify in protecting their 
lands, habitations, and families. The intention of 
this is to hold forth security, not depredation, to 
the country. 

To those whom spirit and principle may induce 


THE PROCLAMATION 


215 


to partake the glorious task of redeeming their 
countrymen from dungeons, and re-establish the 
blessings of legal government, I offer encourage- 
ment and employment and upon the first intelli- 
gence of their associations I will find means to 
assist their undertakings. The domestic, the in- 
dustrious, the infirm and even the timid inhabitants 
I am desirous to protect, provided they remain 
quietly at their houses, that they do not suffer 
their cattle to be removed nor their corn or forage 
to be secreted or destroyed, that they do not break 
up their bridges or roads, nor by any other act, 
directly or indirectly endeavor to obstruct the 
operations of the King’s troops or supply or assist 
those of the enemy. , 

Every species of provision brought to my camp 
will be paid for at an equitable rate and in solid 
coin. 

If notwithstanding these endeavors and sincere 
inclinations to effect them, the phrensy of hostility 
should remain, I trust I shall stand acquitted in the 
eyes of God and ntan in denouncing and executing 
the vengeance of the State against the willful out- 
casts. The messengers of justice and of wrath 
await them in the field, and devastation, famine, 
and every concomitant horror that a reluctant but 
indispensible prosecution of military duty must 
occasion, will bar the way to their return. 

Barry St. Leger. 

By order of the Commander in Chief, 

Will. Osb. Hamilton, Secretary. 

It is doubtful whether this bombastic proclama- 


2I6 


THE PROCLAMATION 




tion was widely read or clearly understood by the 
scattered country people of the Mohawk Valley. 
The last paragraph, however, was too plain in its 
meaning to be ignored and the threat of “famine 
and every concomitant horror,” certainly roused 
many a heart. The wavering, fearful of the In- 
dians and still more afraid of the terrible king’s 
troops from across the sea, were led to renounce 
allegiance to the cause of the struggling Colonies. 
But there were not many of these, and the mes- 
sage only increased the ardor of those who were 
already committed to the Tory or the Whig side. 

Apparently every one roused himself to aid the 
side to which he already belonged, and the eyes 
of all were turned toward the little fort which Colo- 
nel Gansevoort with his sturdy band was to defend. 
General Herkimer, as soon as the news of the siege 
was received, prepared at once to advance to its aid 
and even in that far-away army to the south, which 
was striving to check the advance of John Bur- 
goyne, preparations for assisting the beleaguered 
garrison were not wanting, though this was not 
learned until afterward. 

Meanwhile, within Fort Schuyler there was ex- 
citement enough, we may be sure. The long- 
expected day had at last arrived and every, man 
knew that escape from the position was well-nigh 
impossible, even if he had desired to make it, which 


THE PROCLAMATION 


217 


no one did. There was a grim determination to 
hold on, which of itself is not the poorest indication 
of final success. St. Leger s demand for the sur- 
render of the fort having been boldly declined, the 
men at once set about the defense of the place. 

But they had no flag and a fort without a flag 
was not for a moment to be thought of. On the 
fourteenth day of the preceding June Congress had 
resolved, “That the flag of the United States be 
thirteen stripes, alternate red and white, that the 
union be thirteen stars, white on a blue field, rep- 
resenting a new constellation,” but it is one thing 
to “resolve” and another to carry out the resolu- 
tion. Some had claimed that the conception of 
the flag was due to John Adams, and others had 
declared the Entire flag was borrowed from the coat 
of arms of George Washington. 

But in Fort Schuyler, in August, 1777, there was 
no discussion over the origin, but all was over the 
problem of how to have a form of the flag already 
adopted by the new nation. Apparently there was 
nothing of which a flag could be made, but among 
the rugged men who were determined to hold the 
fort against all odds such a little problem of how 
to make a flag, seeing that apparently there was 
nothing there of which to make one, was soon 
solved, and within a few hours the symbol of the 
new nation was waving above the fortifications. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


ON GUARD 


HE eager men within Fort Schuyler speedily 



cut strips from their shirts and so the white 
for the new flag was formed. Then pieces of scarlet 
cloth were fastened together and the red for the 
flag was ready. The blue ground for the stars was 
a more difficult problem, but that too was soon 
solved when Captain Abraham Swartout, who, as 
we know, had several weeks before this time come 
with his company from Peekskill to the aid of the 
beleaguered garrison, from the blue cloak which he 
himself had taken in an engagement with the 
British, cut a background for the thirteen stars and 
so the first flag was made.^ Before sunset the 
curious piece of patchwork, for it was little more 
than that, was floating over one of the bastions of 
Fort Schuyler and the enthusiasm of the defenders 
of the place was doubtless as great as it would have 
been had the emblem of the new nation consisted 
of silk with adornments of silver and gold. 

^ DifTerent claims have been put forward for the “first flag,” 
John Paul Jones, among others, claiming the honor, but Fort 
Schuyler seems to be justly entitled to recognition. 


ON GUARD 


219 


When the demand of St Leger for the surrender 
had been refused, eveiy one knew that the great 
tug of war had come. The garrison had provisions 
sufficient to last for about six weeks. For the small 
arms there seemed to be plenty of ammunition but 
for the cannon there was but a small supply. En- 
thusiastic as the men were, Colonel Gansevoort was 
well aware that he doubtless would have need of 
the larger guns before the end came ; but though 
he was not one to show his deeper feelings, he 
nevertheless was as determined as Li: followers, and 
indeed more than the most of them, as we shall 
soon learn. 

Early on the following morning the active hos- 
tilities , began. The Indians, who had concealed 
themselves behind the trunks of trees or clumps of 
bushes, began to fire at the men who were engaged 
in raising the parapets, a task which, as we know, 
had not yet been completed when St. Leger’s army 
invested the fort. 

As several of the patriots were hit and severely 
wounded, it was decided to station some of the 
men who were known to be good shots with the 
rifle at various points to pick off the Indians con- 
cealed among the bushes or trees, and among those 
who were selected for this task were David and 
Jonathan Hardin, both known to be skillful and 
most excellent marksmen. 


220 


ON GUARD 


Accordingly the boys found themselves together 
in a well protected spot on one of the better places 
on the walls and for a time the excitement of the task 
assigned them kept both busy. The fire of the enemy 
was not continuous, and the only means of knowing 
where the red men were concealed was the little puff 
of smoke that arose at the discharge of their guns. 
Then both boys fired, as did others, at the place 
indicated, but what the result was they seldom were 
able to learn. Nor was their task a difficult one. 
Well protected themselves, there was slight danger 
to them from the fire of the enemy, and several 
minutes would elapse between the times when they 
were called upon to use their own weapons. 

After the first excitement had passed and the 
boys were able more calmly to consider their own 
situation, their conversation naturally turned upon 
the experiences through which each had recently 
passed, for not as yet had they had an opportunity 
to converse, so rapidly had the recent events within 
the fort crowded upon one another. 

David had related the story of his adventures 
and the meeting with Adam Helmer he had had, but 
somehow Han Yost Schuyler seemed to interest 
Jonathan far more than any of the other persons 
referred to. 

“ Han Yost is a fool ! ” he exclaimed. “ I don’t 
see why you or Adam thought he was of enough 


ON GUARD 


221 


consequence so that he could be used by the 
Tories as a spy.” 

“We didn’t think he was of very much impor- 
tance,” replied David, “ but it was perfectly clear 
that the Tories were using him, whether he was a 
fool or not I have my own notion that he isn’t 
so big a fool as he pretends to be. But he knew a 
lot about what was going on inside both lines, and 
I have no doubt was being used a good deal more 
than he knew anything about, himself” 

“You may be right, and since the trouble with 
Sam Geake I’m beginning to think I don’t know 
much ; he fooled me so easily.” 

“Sam Geake?” inquired David hastily, “is 
there anything wrong with him ? What do you 
know about him?” 

“ I know a lot more than I wish I did, and than 

I ever ” Jonathan suddenly ceased, for through 

the open loophole a bullet had come and its thud 
as it struck the wall behind them caused the faces 
of both boys to become pale. Neither of them 
had been hit, but the bullet had passed within a 
few inches of each of them and both hastily changed 
their positions. 

“’Twas a close call, David,” whispered Jona- 
than. “We must have a care or ’twill come again.” 

Hardly had the young soldier ceased speaking 
when another bullet struck the heavy log on the 


222 


ON GUARD 


edge of the loophole and the splinters flew in every 
direction, for it had shattered a thin board which 
stood edgewise ^.gainst the log. 

“They’ve marked us here and we’ll move up to 
the next place,” said David ; and at once the two 
boys shifted their position and peering out into 
the adjacent forest watched for the place from 
which the puff of smoke would arise to mark the 
spot from which the shot had come. 

For ten minutes the boys watched keenly, but 
apparently the unseen marksman had abandoned 
his purpose for not a sign could be discovered to 
indicate his presence. From other parts of the 
forest and on the other sides of the fort the fire 
continued and the boys were about to abandon the 
place they held and seek another where their sei*v- 
ices might be in greater demand, when suddenly 
the fire was renewed and several bullets struck the 
heavy walls near the place where the young soldiers 
were. 

This time they could see the little puffs of smoke 
•and David said quickly: “Fire at the bushes by 
that big maple tree, Jonathan. It looks as if there 
were more than one there. You take the right and 
I ’ll take the left side. Now then, let them have it.” 

Together the reports of the two guns rang out 
and as soon as the smoke cleared they beheld three 
Indians making from the place of concealment to- 


ON GUARD 


223 


ward the depths of the forest, but two of them were 
supporting the third who seemed to be unable to 
stand. 

“You hit him, Dave!” exclaimed Jonathan in 
great excitement. “ Now let’s give it to them 
again before they are behind the trees.” 

Quick as the boys were in their efforts to reload 
their guns the red men had disappeared from sight 
before they could fire again. For the moment the 
excitement drove away all other feelings, save that 
of the desire to visit vengeance upon their enemies, 
but after a few minutes had elapsed and no shot 
had been fired at the place where they were, the 
more impulsive Jonathan said slowly : 

“ This seems hard, Dave, to be up here trying to 
pick off the Indians as we would a bear or a fox.” 

“Not very hard when you think of what they’re 
trying to do to us,” remarked the more prosaic 
David dryly. 

“They’re a bad lot, ’tis true, but I don’t know 
that they’re altogether to blame. At any rate, it 
seems a bit hard to fire at them as we’re doing 
when we’re all safe and sound.” 

“ It’s what we must do, anyway, Jonathan. You 
remember about the Canaanites father was reading 
about and how they just had to be driven out by 
the Israelites ? Well, we’re the Israelites and they’re 
the Canaanites, and if they don’t want to be treated 


224 


ON GUARD 


this way, then they ought not to have been 
Canaanites, is my humble opinion.” 

The logic certainly was not very profound, 
but the momentary impulse of compassion which 
Jonathan had felt speedily passed and once more 
the desire to drive away the besieging forces took 
possession of him. It is easy at times for a man 
to justify himself for what he does in war, but the 
true question lies back of all that and pertains to 
the evil of war itself 

David Hardin, who felt no compunctions of con- 
science and was in terrible earnest, when it was 
learned that for the time being they were not likely 
to be molested, turned to his brother again and 
said: “You were telling me about Sam Geake. 
What about him ? Where is he ? ” 

“ He’s where he won’t do any more harm for a 
while, anyway.” 

“But where’s that? Is he here in the fort? ” 

“Yes, and he’s a spy, that’s what he is! Oh, 
I know how you felt about it,” he added quickly, 
as an exclamation of anger esc'aped David’s lips, 
“and I didn’t believe you, but I do now and I’ll 
tell you why.” 

Jonathan went on to tell of the trial or court- 
martial of Sam Geake and how the sentence of 
death had been pronounced by the unanimous vote 
of all the officers present. 


ON GUARD 225 

“What did they do, hang or shoot him?” in- 
quired David. 

“ Neither.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“Well, it was this way, you see. After they’d 
voted as they did, Sam begged so hard to put in a 
word that Colonel Gansevoort decided to hear what 
he had to say for himself And Sam got up and 
told how he was guilty and owned up to all they 
charged him with. Then he went on to tell how 
he had gone down to Poughkeepsie to join Captain 
Swartout along with Major Hammell, who accord- 
ing to Sam’s story was under arrest at the time.” 

“ Sam’s correct ; I heard all about it,” said David. 

“You did? Where did you hear about it. I’d 
like to know?” 

“ Never mind that ; go on with your story.” 

“Well, as I was saying, Sam went down to 
Poughkeepsie along with Major Hammell ; but ac- 
cording to his stoiy the major’s the bigger rascal 
of the two. He — I mean the major — had been a 
prisoner of the redcoats, but he was promised by 
them that he would be made a colonel in the regu- 
lars if he’d go into our lines and find out all he 
could of our plans. He urged Sam to go in with 
him, after he’d consented, and it was fixed up that 
Sam Geake should be made a lieutenant. Yes, sir; 
think of it. Lieutenant Sam Geake, of his majesty’s 

p 


226 


ON GUARD 


regulars. Sam took the bait and Clinton arranged 
for him to come up here from Poughkeepsie and find 
out all he could about Colonel Gansevoort’s plans 
and do such other good little deeds as he could ; 
but he was found out, for it’s a wise man who can 
fool our colonel, let me tell you. Well, the upshot 
of it was that Sam can’t go back to New York to 
get that place as lieutenant which Sir Henry has 
promised him, but Colonel Gansevoort agreed to let 
him live a spell longer under the circumstances. 
Perhaps he wants to use what Sam said about Ma- 
jor Hammell some day.” 

“ Is he shut up ? ” 

“ Yes, he’s where he can’t do any damage now. 
He’s in the guard-house.” 

“Good place for him it is too.” 

“Yes it is, for, do you know, David, he was 
trying to get some of the men to leave the fort or 
open it to St. Leger?” 

“ He was ! ” exclaimed David. “ I hope he 
didn’t find any to go into that scheme. ’Twould 
be hard for us if they did.”. 

The afternoon had now passed and the shadows 
of the evening were falling fast. Already the dusk 
had wrapped all within its shadows and for a time 
not a gun had been heard. It almost seemed as 
if the plans of the enemy had been abandoned. 

“Yes, it would be hard if Sam had found any 


ON GUARD 227 

one to agree to that plan,” repeated David, almost 
as if he were speaking to himself. 

Suddenly the thoughts of both boys were re- 
called from Sam Geake and his evil deeds by an 
occurrence as terrible as it was unexpected. From 
out the darkness came a sound almost like that of 
a long shriek or groan and a moment later a shell 
fell inside the walls of Fort Schuyler. Another 
and another followed, and then from eveiy side of 
the surrounding forest rose the whoops and cries 
of the red men. Not understanding what it meant, 
both boys leaped to their feet and turned toward 
the sergeant of the guard, who could be seen run- 
ning swiftly toward them. 


CHAPTER XXV 


A PURSUIT 

I NSTANTLY relieved from further duty in the 
place they then held, both David and Jonathan 
speedily joined the main force in the garrison which 
now was thoroughly aroused. The Indians were 
encircling the fort and as they ran and danced, 
only occasionally stepping forth into the open space 
where they could be seen, they added to the alarm 
and confusion behind the walls. Both Colonel 
Gansevoort and Colonel Willett seemed to be 
everywhere at once, and when it was discovered 
that the shells of the enemy were able to do but 
slight harm, the confidence of the defenders was in 
a measure restored. 

The yelling Indians, terror inspiring as they were 
when seen at close range, were not able to make 
the walls fall by their cries, and both sides were 
soon convinced that the cannon of St. Leger were 
too light to have much effect upon the security oi 
the fort. The shells, also, though a few of the 
soldiers were hurt by them, were soon discontinued, 
and all the night long the most that the garrison 
had to fear was the continued yelling of the Indians, 
228 


A PURSUIT 229 

who still took pains to keep well beyond the range 
of the guns. 

The nervousness of the defenders soon passed 
when it was learned that no harm was done and at 
last the most of the men retired, ready to be sum- 
moned in an instant by the guard. When the 
morning came it was discovered that the noisy 
enemy was still invisible and the confidence and 
determination of the besieged were considerably 
strengthened. The day was very like a repetition 
of the preceding one and when the shadows of 
night fell once more, again the dancing, leaping, 
howling savages kept up their march around the 
walls of Fort Schuyler, but they ventured no nearer 
than they had in the darkness of the preceding 
night. 

The men who comprised the garrison of the fort 
were by this time somewhat accustomed to the 
manner of the siege, and even began to joke with 
one another as to what the outcome of the attack 
would be when the vocal powers of the besiegers 
should begin to fail them. The leaders, however, 
were not to be deceived by the apparent lack of 
success which thus far had attended the efforts of 
St. Leger’s men to capture the stronghold. Colo- 
nel Gansevoort took almost no time to sleep and 
though the youthful commander soon began to 
show signs of the heavy strain he was undergoing, 


230 


A PURSUIT 


there was no evidence that his courage had faltered 
or his determination to hold the fort against all 
odds had decreased. 

On the second day after, which was the sixth of 
August, 1777, Jonathan Hardin was once more 
doing duty as a guard or sentinel. The Indian 
sharpshooters had ceased their efforts for the time, 
and not one of the enemy was to be seen by the 
young sentry as he kept to his rounds and scanned 
the forest in front of him. The heat of the pre- 
ceding days seemed to have reached its highest on 
this sultry morning. Not a leaf seemed to be 
moving and the masses of great gray clouds seemed 
to be held to their places in the sky overhead. 
The scant patches of grass between the walls of 
the fort and the adjacent forest were parched and 
sere, and here and there spots of dull colored 
foliage could be seen in the midst of the green of 
the trees. 

To Jonathan the heat had seemed unusually op- 
pressive and he had frequently paused in his rounds 
to wipe his wet face and lay his heavy gun for a 
moment upon the ground. Away to the south the 
low land stretched as far as he could see and the 
distant hills were almost concealed in the haze of 
the August morning. 

“ ’Tis a hot day, old fellow,” said Jonathan, as 
he paused for a moment to pat Captain Gregg’s 


A PURSUIT 


23 


dog Stan, that somehow had transferred his affec- 
tions to the young soldier, when his master after 
his terrible wounds had been carried away from 
the fort. No word of his death had been received 
and as no news was good news it was beginning to 
be hoped that the bold captain might after all sur- 
vive the terrible wounds he had received when he 
had secretly gone forth from the fort to have a 
shot at the flocks of pigeons. Stan, in the con- 
fusion, or by an oversight, had been left behind by 
his master and now considered himself as the 
property of Jonathan Hardin, who, we may be cer- 
tain, was in no way averse to receiving so intelli- 
gent an animal as his own companion and friend. 

When the young sentry had stopped to make 
the remark concerning the weather, Stan whined 
softly in reply and by the vigorous wagging of his 
stumpy tail manifested his appreciation of his 
master’s anxiety and suffering from the heat of the 
day. 

“ You’d better come down from there, Stan, or 
a redskin ’ll get you.” 

Jonathan spoke in his ordinary tone, but the dog, 
which had rushed up to the edge of the wall and 
stood for a moment peering keenly at the woods be- 
yond, apparently understood, and rushing back to 
his master’s side resumed his march as if the beat 
belonged as much to him as it did to Jonathan. 


232 


A PURSUIT 


Either his energy or restlessness, however, caused 
him once more to dart up to the edge of the wall, 
and this time a low growl from him showed Jona- 
than that Stan had seen more than he in the ap- 
parently peaceful landscape. 

“What is it, Stan? Do you see something? ” he 
inquired in a low voice, as he stopped for a mo- 
ment by the dog’s side and tried to see what the 
keener eyes of his companion had discovered. 

Another low growl from the dog and the sight 
of the hair on his back and neck slowly rising con- 
firmed Jonathan in his suspicion that something 
was wrong ; but look where he would, he could not 
discover anything unusual in the scene before him. 
It was now almost ten o’clock in the morning and 
the heat of the sun was beginning to increase 
rapidly. From the spots of sand outside the fort 
the quivering air was visible as it rose, stirred by 
the warmth of the heated ground. But nothing 
else that was moving could be discovered by the 
watchful young sentry. 

“You’re fooled this time, Stan, and no mistake,” 
he said at last, as he prepared to resume his beat. 
“You’re a good dog, but I think you’re becoming 
conceited over your success. Come on, boy, and 
let us go back to our beat.” 

The intelligent animal turned his head for a mo- 
ment and glanced up into the eyes of his master 


A PURSUIT 


233 


with a look of affection and intelligence, and though 
he wagged his entire body and emitted a low whine 
he quickly resumed his position and stood glaring 
at some object he saw, or thought he saw, in the re- 
gions beyond. 

Perplexed by the actions of the dog, Jonathan 
again peered out into the forest, but still he could 
not discover anything which might have aroused 
the suspicions of the dog by his side. He was 
about to turn back and leave the spot when he 
suddenly stopped and looking intently in the direc- 
tion in which Stan was gazing he saw a sight which 
instantly riveted all his attention. 

From a clump of bushes near the border of the 
forest he saw something moving and a moment 
afterward had no difficulty in perceiving the body 
of a man crawling along the ground toward a fallen 
tree, which lay several rods distant from the bushes 
and nearer the fort. 

Hastily bringing his gun to his shoulder he was 
about to fire ; but checking the impulse he waited 
and watched the movements of the man. He had 
no other thought than that the man was an Indian, 
and that he had some project of importance in his 
mind the stealthy way in which he moved, as well 
as his extreme deliberation, clearly indicated. 

Jonathan could see him distinctly now, for the 
high grass was on the other side of the man and 


234 


A PURSUIT 


apparently his entire object was to conceal himself 
from those who might be in the forest and not from 
those in the fort. The lad was by no means so 
positive now that the man was an Indian after all, 
and with a keen interest he watched him as he 
came nearer and nearer the log. Frequently he 
stopped and lying close upon the ground did not 
so much as raise his head to look about him ; but 
after several minutes had elapsed each time he re- 
sumed his slow and cautious movements and soon 
was by the side of the log he was seeking. There 
he rested for a brief time and then slowly and with 
great care crawled over the log and stretched him- 
self upon the ground by its side, concealed from the 
forest but within plain sight of Jonathan, who was 
watching his every movement. 

Jonathan was as greatly excited as was Stan by 
this time, and yet he hardly knew what to do. He 
was positive that the man was a white, but whether 
a friend or foe he had no means of knowing. Cer- 
tainly his actions were decidedly suspicious, to say 
the least, and in his uncertainty, Jonathan was 
about to leave his post and report what he had 
seen to the officer of the day, when his attention 
was called by the actions of Stan to another point 
in the border of the forest. He could plainly see 
three Indians there, and they too in their actions 
were as puzzling as the strange man had been, for 


A PURSUIT 


235 


they also were crouching low and evidently study- 
ing the appearance of the ground over which they 
were moving. Soon they approached the clump 
of bushes near which Jonathan had first perceived 
the white man and quickly encircling it soon dis- 
covered the trail which the crawling stranger had 
made. 

The discovery apparently satisfied them, for at 
once they advanced toward the log behind which 
the man, whom Jonathan instantly concluded must 
be the one for whom they were seeking, was con- 
cealed. The young soldier had no difficulty now 
in believing him either to be a deserter from the 
redcoats or some one who was endeavoring to 
make his way into the fort, and in either event he 
longed to give him his aid. But what could he 
do ? If he left his post they certainly would come 
upon the man before the men from the fort could 
be summoned. And he was powerless to aid him 
where he was or to give him warning of his danger. 

Slowly Jonathan raised his gun to his shoulder. 
He was not positive that the weapon would carry 
well to the distance at which the Indians were, but 
at least he could make the attempt. It might serve 
to warn the man anyway. Taking careful aim at 
the first of the Indians he pressed the trigger and 
the loud report instantly followed. 

To his delight Jonathan saw the Indian clap one 


236 


A PURSUIT 


hand upon his shoulder and at the same time the 
man behind the log leaped to his feet and stood in 
full view of the Indians and of the young sentry. 
Without hesitating a moment he started swiftly to- 
ward the fort, and with a whoop the two Indians 
bounded after him. Neither had a gun, but both 
had tomahawks and the one in advance threw his 
at the fleeing white man, but as far as Jonathan 
could perceive without hurting him at all. 

On and on came the men, each exerting him- 
self to the utmost. The white man ran swiftly, 
but to the excited lad it seemed as if his pursuers 
were steadily gaining. Stan too was excited now 
and casting discretion to the winds, barked furi- 
ously and leaped above the rampart as if he must 
go to the aid of the fleeing man. 

Jonathan realizing how much depended upon 
himself had hastily reloaded his gun, but as he 
brought it quickly to his shoulder he saw the two 
Indians suddenly pause in their pursuit and then as 
quickly turn about and start back toward the 
shelter of the forest. 


With a whoop the two Indians bounded after him. 



Ci 

# 







CHAPTER XXVI 


A TRAP 

T he cause of the sudden departure of the two 
pursuing Indians was evident when a loud 
report, as of several rifles discharged at the same in- 
stant, was heard, and one of the red men fell to the 
ground. Without pausing to ascertain the fate of 
his comrade, the other Indian fled on toward the 
forest, and despite the fact that he was fired at 
again and again, he managed to gain the shelter 
of the trees and to all appearances was safe once 
more. 

Meanwhile the white man had entered the fort 
and to Jonathan’s surprise he perceived that the 
stranger was none other than Adam Helmer, of 
whom his brother David had so frequently spoken 
since his return to the fort. There was no oppor- 
tunity for the young soldier to learn the purpose 
of the hunter in coming into the fort at such a time, 
for Adam at once sought the presence of Colonel 
Gansevoort and was for a time seen by no other of 
the garrison. 

A half-hour afterward, when Jonathan was re- 
lieved from his duty as sentry, he was startled by 

237 


238 


A TRAP 


hearing the discharge of one of the cannon of the 
fort, and when this was repeated again and again 
he as well as his companions knew that it was a 
signal of some kind, for not an enemy could be 
seen. Indeed, the garrison had been puzzled by 
the long-continued silence in the camp of St. Leger 
and by the sight of a large body of men who ap- 
peared to be departing for the south, though on 
what errand few in Fort Schuyler could conjecture. 

The mystery of it all deepened when it was 
learned that two hundred or more men, some of 
them from the Massachusetts troops and some from 
the command of Colonel Gansevoort, with a field 
piece, an iron three-pounder, were to follow Colo- 
nel Willett forth from the fort. That the errand 
was a serious one there could be no doubt, and 
when young Jonathan Hardin learned that he was 
to be one of the number to accompany Colonel 
Willett his excitement naturally became intense. 

In the few moments of preparation he sought for 
his brother David, but to his surprise and consterna- 
tion he was nowhere to be found. 

“Have you seen my brother?” he inquired 
hastily of one of the men of his mess whom he met 
near the barracks. 

“Not of late, lad,” replied the soldier, “and 
'twill be a matter of some time before you see him 
either. I’m thinkin’.” 


A TRAP 


239 


“ Why ? Where is he ? What’s he doing ? ” 

“ He went out o’ the fort afore it was light this 
morning. I was on guard in the night, and he had 
a pass that took him through. He’s probably gone 
to meet Herkimer’s men.” 

” Herkimer’s men ? I don’t understand,” replied 
the perplexed young soldier. 

“Ye knew Adam Helmer came into the fort this 
mornin’, didn’t ye? 

“Yes. Yes. I saw him myself” 

“ Well, it’s common report now that he was an 
express from General Herkimer, who has marched 
as far as Oriskany Creek and is waitin’ there for 
some o’ us to come out and meet him. The three 
guns you heard a little spell ago was the signal 
agreed upon to let them know that Adam had got 
into Fort Schuyler and given his word ; but ’tis 
said that Adam’s been a long time on the way, and 
has had no end o’ trouble pickin’ his way through 
the w'oods and the redskins thereof” 

As the call was then heard Jonathan turned and 
left the man, though he was eager to learn more. 
He could easily believe that Adam Helmer had 
been an express from General Herkimer, who was 
supposed to be advancing to the relief of Fort 
Schuyler, but the absence of David and the fact 
that his brother had left him no word concerning 
his departure sadly troubled him. With the mul- 


240 


A TRAP 


titude of red men and white who were investing the 
fort the chances that David might be able to make 
his way through them were very slight indeed, and 
the more Jonathan thought of the departure of his 
brother the more anxious he became. He did not 
even know where or why he had gone, but there 
was no time to dwell upon these things, for in a 
few minutes Colonel Willett had his men formed 
and marched forth from the fort. 

This time there were no cheers or shouts and the 
intense silence of all clearly indicated that all were 
aware of the serious nature of the venture. From 
the direction in which they were moving all the 
men speedily perceived that it was not the plan for 
them to turn to the south and meet their friends 
who were supposed to be advancing from that di- 
rection, but that they were marching toward the 
camp of Barry St. Leger. This was a far more se- 
rious matter and the faces of the marching men, 
grim and stern, indicated that serious work of some 
kind was likely to be done before they returned to 
Fort Schuyler. 

Before we follow the fortunes of Colonel Willett’s 
force, however, we must pause to learn something 
concerning the men from whom Adam Helmer had 
come with his message, for the rumor was correct 
which had come to Jonathan’s ears, that the hunter 
had brought a word from General Herkimer. 


A TRAP 


241 


The call which General Nicholas Herkimer had 
issued a few days previous to this time, which has 
been quoted in these pages, had been nobly re- 
sponded to. Men of property, farmers, boys, old 
men, indeed almost every one who was able to bear 
arms and in whose heart there was a desire to drive 
back the invading forces of St. Leger, assembled 
at Fort Dayton, and soon a force of between eight 
hundred and a thousand men were there ready to 
follow the lead of the sturdy old German. Their 
equipment was not good, there were few suita- 
ble uniforms, they had no flag, and the guns were 
of various sizes and descriptions ; but they had 
something better than any or all of these things, 
and that was a determination in every man to do 
his best. There were several so-called “ regiments ” 
there under the command of such sterling leaders 
as Colonel Visscher, Colonel Cox, Colonel Klock, 
and others, and when on the fourth of August the 
little force set forth from Fort Dayton every one 
in the command knew that something would be 
done before they returned. 

On the following day they arrived at Oriskany 
Creek and there halted while General Herkimer 
sent forward an express, who was Adam Helmer, as 
we know’, to Fort Schuyler with instructions that 
his successful entrance was to be announced by 
three discharges of a cannon, and then while Gen- 
Q 


242 


A TRAP 


eral Herkimer was forcing his way to the' fort, Col- 
onel Gansevoort was to make a sally upon St. Le- 
ger’s camp and so divert the attention and hold the 
most of the enemy back while he himself pressed 
forward. 

The plan was a good one, but there was a delay 
in its execution. Adam Helmer found it exceed- 
ingly difficult to make his way through the midst 
of the enemy, and only by hiding and advancing 
short distances was he able to proceed at all. How- 
ever, at last 'he did succeed in entering the fort 
in the manner already described ; but even after 
his message was delivered and Colonel Willett 
had started forth with his men, a terrible thunder 
shower, which raged for an hour or more, delayed 
the impatient colonel and to the hunter it seemed 
as if nothing was likely to come of all his struggle 
to bring word of Herkimer’s presence and plan. 

Meanwhile General Herkimer and his men 
were waiting for the signal back by Oriskany. 
When the day and the night passed and the 
morning of the sixth of August dawned clear 
and warm and still they did not hear the distant 
signal from Fort Schuyler, the impatience of the 
little army became more and more marked. The 
careful general did not wish to advance before he 
was positive that reinforcements were coming from 
the fort to his aid. He well knew the lack of dis- 


A TRAP 


243 


cipline among his men and was also aware of the 
terrible nature of the foe before him. Brant and 
Butler, and others equally merciless and cunning, 
were there, and in the presence of such an enemy 
the utmost caution -was not only the part of a pru- 
dent commander but the sole promise of a success- 
ful engagement as well. 

The sturdy old general resisted the pleadings of 
his officers and men to advance. He told them 
they would run before the first real danger if they 
were not properly supported, but his words only 
served to increase their anger. They even boldly 
charged him with being a Tory at heart, of being a 
coward, and no one knows what all, and even 
Colonel Cox and Colonel Paris, who from their own 
experiences ought to have known better, added 
their reproaches. 

For a time General Herkimer was unmoved by 
their taunts and pleadings. He told them that he 
considered himself as their father and must look 
after them as if they were children and that it was 
not safe to advance farther until he knew he could 
depend on reinforcements from Fort Schuyler. 

All he could say did not avail, however, and the 
reproaches and hard words were repeated until at 
last the faithful old soldier, stung by the charges of 
cowardice, and strongly against his own better judg- 
ment, gave the word to advance. 


244 


A TRAP 


The command was received with an exultant 
shout by the troops, that instantly, without much 
semblance of order on their part or of care on the 
part of their leaders, rushed, rather than moved, 
forward. They marched in files of two deep over 
the rough way, the only precautions taken being to 
send forward an advanced guard and to keep a 
flank upon each side. After this manner they ad- 
vanced for two or three miles and then there came 
a sudden check which taught many a man to his 
sorrow that the sturdy old general had known 
better than they what ought to have been done. 

Meanwhile St. Leger had been informed, per- 
haps by some of the party whom Adam Helmer 
and David Hardin had discovered in the abode of 
the Shoemakers, of what was going on. He in- 
stantly dispatched a division of Sir John Johnson's 
famous Tory regiment, known as the “Greens,” 
Colonel Butler and his rangers and Joseph Brant, 
or Thayendanegea, as he was known by the Indians, 
to arrest General Herkimer’s approach. 

Brant, upon whose zeal and cunning the others 
seemed to rely largely, at once planned to draw 
the advancing Americans into an ambuscade. 
Doubtless he well knew that they were approach- 
ing without any attempt at militaiy order and that 
very fact favored his design. Near Oriskany, where 
the rough corduroy road was the only means of 


A TRAP 


245 


crossing a swampy hollow or ravine, were high 
bluffs on each side which were covered with a 
heavy growth of timber. There the best marks- 
men of the Tories and Indians were stationed and 
the forces so arranged that as the Americans ad- 
vanced they could be surrounded on every side 
except a small space directly in front of them, by 
the waiting men. ‘Tt was as handsome a trap as 
that which Hermann or Arminius set for the legions 
of Varus in the Teutoburger forest eighteen cen- 
turies previous — an ambush which determined the 
fate of Roman progress into the free German 
land,” wrote General De Peyster afterward, in de- 
scribing the scene. 

Whether the trap was “ handsome ” or not, at 
least it was a terrible one, and all the time the care- 
less and eager advancing force of General Herki- 
mer was drawing near. At last the advanced lines 
entered the ravine, still thoughtless of their peril, 
until in one awful moment the forest rang with the 
whoops of the savages and the air almost seemed 
to be filled with the bullets fired by a concealed 
foe. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE BATTLE OF ORISKANY 

HROWN into fearful disorder by the sudden- 



ness of the assault and the terribly deadly na- 
ture of the fire directed against them, for a brief time 
it almost seemed as if the advancing column would 
be annihilated. From every side the rifles poured 
their deadly hail, while the enemies themselves were 
for the most part safe and concealed behind the 
trees of the forest. The rearguard of Herkimer’s 
men, led by Colonel Visscher, were the only ones 
not caught in the trap, but they quickly proved 
the correctness of the old general’s assertion that 
they would run at the first fire, for without waiting 
to learn the fate of their comrades, or to make one 
attempt to go to their aid, they ingloriously turned 
and fled with a howling mob of savages in swift 
pursuit. 

The event of the battle proved that they would 
have fared much better had they gone to the aid 
of their unfortunate companions, for they suffered 
far more than did even the struggling men caught 
between the hidden lines of the enemy. 

Meanwhile the men in the ravine made some- 
246 


THE BATTLE OF ORISKANY 24/ 

thing of a stand and a terrible engagement fol- 
lowed, too terrible to be told in all of its fearful 
details. There was little of the glory of war in the 
battle, for it was for the most part a desperate 
hand-to-hand conflict. No hatred is said to be 
like that which springs up between those who have 
once been friends and neighbors, and in this bat- 
tle of Oriskany, on that August day in 1777, it was 
friend against friend and neighbor against neighbor. 

The Indians, concealed behind the huge trees, 
would discharge their rifles and then rush forward 
with knife and tomahawk to complete their task. 
Above all rose the groans and shrieks of the 
wounded and the terrible cries of the savages. 

General Herkimer himself was among the first to 
fall, a musket ball having shattered his leg just 
below the knee. The dauntless old man insisted 
upon having his saddle removed from the horse, 
which had been killed by the same ball which had 
wounded him, and placed against the trunk of a 
tree and there taking his seat the general continued 
to direct his men. His soldiers were falling about 
him like leaves from the trees in autumn ; some of 
his best and bravest officers had been killed ; and 
still General Nicholas Herkimer, calm and com- 
posed, gave forth his commands, apparently as un- 
mindful of his own sufferings as he was of the dan- 
ger about him. 


248 THE BATTLE OF ORISKANY 

Acting under his orders the hardy soldiers man- 
aged to form themselves into circles and so to resist 
the enemy, who by this time had closed the gap in 
front and completely surrounded the little patriot 
army. The men were resisting nobly. Never had 
the Continental forces fought more bravely or with 
a greater courage. They did not yield, though the 
ground was covered with the bodies of their fallen 
comrades. When at last they had formed them- 
selves into circles, as we have described, the deter- 
mined redcoats and Tories and their savage allies 
prepared to advance and use the bayonet. 

It was a scene indescribably awful. The whoops 
of the Indians still resounded above the roar of 
the guns. For an hour the men had fought, often- 
times hand to hand and two men would fall to the 
ground together, each held in the death grip of 
the other. The losses were not all on the Ameri- 
can side, for many of the redcoats had fallen and 
the Indian allies were being rapidly thinned. 

Just at the moment when the British prepared 
to charge bayonets, a storm, which had been creep- 
ing up the sky, all unobserved by friend and foe 
alike, burst upon them. It was no gentle rainfall 
but a deluge and the water fell in sheets. Quickly 
the design to advance with the bayonets was aban- 
doned and redcoat and redskin together sought 
the shelter of the adjoining forest. 


THE BATTLE OF ORISKANY 


• 249 


For an hour the fearful downpour continued and 
gave a breathing spell to both sides in the contest. 
But the undaunted Americans were not idle, and 
guided by their leaders took possession of an ad- 
vantageous piece of ground upon which they ranged 
themselves in the form of a circle and awaited the 
return of their foes, not doubting that the battle 
would be renewed. 

Renewed it was, and that right speedily, but this 
time it was the enemy who was to suffer the more. 
The patrio^' were now calm ; perhaps their calm- 
ness was born of desperation or despair, but at all 
events their fire became far more destructive. To 
counteract the success of the Indians, who in the 
early part of the battle, as has been said, were 
accustomed to rush forward to the tree behind 
which a rifle had been discharged and confidently 
expecting to find the man there with an empty 
gun, had used their own weapons with terrible 
advantage, two of the patriots now stood behind 
each tree and when one fired, the other reserved 
his fire until the confident Indian darted forward to 
secure his victim ; but now it was to find himself 
face to face with the muzzle of the second gun. 

Disheartened by the number of the braves who 
were falling the Indians now began to give way, but 
just at that moment a fresh detachment of Tories 
advanced to the scene of battle. These new-comers 


250 


THE BATTLE OF ORISKANY 


were inhabitants of Tryon County and former 
neighbors of the patriots who were there striving so 
desperately to defend themselves. 

The approach of these men served to increase 
the fury of the little army. As the “ Greens,” for 
so the Tory regiment was called, came nearer, the 
patriots fired upon them, and then springing forward 
with a fury indescribable, guns were used as clubs, 
hands, fists, knives, feet, anything and everything 
that would kill was used. Those who are prone 
to look upon war lightly, or to speak of it as if it 
were not such a terrible evil after all, might well 
think soberly of this struggle at Oriskany. Men 
seemed to be no longer men, but to be transformed 
into beasts. Shouts, cries, curses, rose above the 
roar of battle. Hatred, too deep for utterance, 
found vent in the death grapple of neighbor with 
neighbor. 

Suddenly in the midst of the din the sound of 
guns from the direction of the fort was heard. A 
cheer rose from the patriots for they doubted not 
that this must be a detachment from Fort Schuyler 
coming with the long delayed aid. Colonel But- 
ler, one of the most crafty as well as one of the 
most brutal of the British officers, was quick to tiy 
to turn the point to his own advantage. He 
ordered a detachment of the “Greens” to approach 
the field of battle from the direction of the fort and 


THE BATTLE OF ORISKANY 2$ I 

to disguise themselves as Americans, and the ruse 
de guerre^ as it was termed, came near being suc- 
cessful. 

One of his lieutenants turned to Captain Jacob 
Gardinier, one of the heroes of Oriskany, and per- 
ceiving that the hats of the approaching soldiers 
were like those of the Americans, declared that 
friends were at hand. But Captain Gardinier was 
too shrewd to be caught by the trick and perceiv- 
ing the green coats of the approaching men said : 

“Not so ; they are enemies. Don’t you see the 
green coats? ” 

The line continued to advance until it was hailed 
by the captain, and at that very moment one of his 
own men, perceiving an old acquaintance in the 
approaching ranks and supposing him still to be a 
friend, ran to meet him, holding forth his hand as 
he drew near. 

His hand was quickly seized and he was drawn 
within the lines of the enemy, but he at once began 
to struggle desperately to free himself Captain 
Gardinier instantly sprang forward and with his 
spear freed the prisoner. Two of the “Greens” in- 
stantly rushed upon him, but the intrepid captain 
slew one with his spear and severely wounded the 
other. Three more now rushed upon the fearless 
man, and in the struggle that followed the captain’s 
spear became entangled in the clothing of the men 


252 THE BATTLE OF ORISKANY 

and he was thrown to the ground. Still struggling 
however, though a spear had been thrust into each 
of his thighs, he grasped the bayonet which the 
third man presented at his breast and drew the 
soldier down upon himself, where he held him for 
a moment as a shield against the attacks of his 
other foes. One of the captain’s own men, Adam 
Miller by name, now rushed boldly to the aid of 
his leader, and while the two men turned to face 
their new adversary, the captain partly rose from 
the ground and seizing his spear once more drove 
it into the side of the man he had been holding in 
his arms. 

Of course this struggle all occurred in a moment 
of time and as they watched the frightful contest 
one of the men shouted to the captain, “Captain, 
you are killing your own men ! ” 

“ They are not our men,” gasped Captain Gar- 
dinier. “They are the enemy ! Fire away ! ” 

Instantly the men of his command responded 
and thirty or more of the disguised Greens fell to 
the ground. Then once more the lines rushed 
forward with the fury of demons. Bayonets clashed, 
spear struck against spear, muskets were used as 
clubs, and one of the most awful sights it ever fell 
to the lot of man to behold, was seen. The bravery 
of Captain Gardinier was having its effect upon his 
men, and they were struggling, fighting with a 


THE BATTLE OF ORISKANY 253 

courage as fearful as his own. The lines were now 
mingled in one confused mass and friend and foe 
alike were exerting all their strength. 

Among the American soldiers in particular was 
a Captain Dillenback, whom the Tories were par- 
ticularly desirous of securing, and observing him 
in the lines, three of the Greens rushed forward to 
seize him and bear him away as their prisoner. 
But the captain had declared he never would be 
taken alive and he was as good as his word. One 
of the three Tories coming close to him seized 
his gun, but with a wrench the captain tore it from 
him and with one blow felled his assailant to the 
ground. Instantly raising his gun, he shot the 
second and then drove his bayonet through the 
body of the third, but in his moment of success a 
ball fired by another “Green” brought the hero 
to the ground. 

The exploits of Captain Dillenbach and Captain 
Gardinier were but samples of the struggle. Pri- 
vate with private, officer with officer, man with 
man, fought as if all thoughts were absorbed in the 
one fearful impulse, to kill, kill, kill. Perhaps there 
was nothing else to be done, but the carnage was 
frightful. The worst passions of men were in con- 
trol as they ever are in war. The bravery of those 
who entered into the contest at Oriskany can never 
be doubted, but though the famous battle is now a 


254 the battle of oriskany 

part of our national history, the story itself is one 
which cannot be told without a shudder; and as 
one recalls the battle, it almost seems as if once 
more the shouts of rage and cries of the wounded, 
the fearful whoops of the savage warriors and the 
reports of the guns, could be heard. 

Such a contest could not long endure, for it was 
beyond the power of man to stand such a terrible 
strain. The Indians were the first to give way ; 
dismayed by their losses and amazed at the bravery 
of their foes, who, they had been told, would make 
no stand before the invincible forces of the king, 
they began to run, giving vent to their long and 
plaintive cry, which betokened defeat and the 
death of many of their warriors. 

“ Oonah ! Oonah ! O-o-o-o-nah ! ” could be 
heard on every side, and, under a shower of bullets 
from the patriot band, the red men fled into the 
forest. 

The Greens and the Rangers were not slow to 
follow their example. The sound of the firing 
back at Fort Schuyler could be heard and it was 
evident that their presence was needed there, and 
deserted as they now were by their savage allies, 
they too retreated, leaving the militia masters of 
the Oriskany field. 

Though victorious at last, the sturdy patriots had 
suffered losses that brought sorrow to many a home 


THE BATTLE OF ORISKANY 


255 


in the Mohawk Valley, and even the beautiful 
granite shaft that now marks the spot where the 
battle was fought cannot tell the story of woe that 
for years was current in the -beautiful and fertile 
region. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


David’s errand 

M eanwhile, the sound of distant firing^ 
which had come to the ears of the soldiers 
struggling on the battlefield of Oriskany and had 
had so much to do with the hurried departure of 
the Indians and the retreat of the British forces 
from the field, was not a meaningless alarm. 
Under the direction of Colonel Gansevoort, Colonel 
Willett had left the fort with his determined little 
band of men and with their small three-pounder 
had started straight for the camp of St Leger. 

As we know, Jonathan Hardin had been selected 
as one of those who were to accompany Colonel Wil- 
lett on his desperate errand, and the sounds of the 
guns, which came even to the battlefield of Oris- 
kany, left no doubt in the minds of any who heard 
that another terrible encounter was now taking 
place. 

Before we follow Colonel Willett and his band, 
however, it is necessary for us to learn what had 
become of David Hardin, who had disappeared 
from the fort without the knowledge of even his 
own brother Jonathan. Late in the evening, David 
256 


DAVID’S ERRAND 


257 


had been summoned by Colonel Gansevoort, and 
as the young soldier soon afterward stood before 
his commander, he knew at once from the colonel’s 
bearing that some desperate attempt was to be 
made. His suspicions were confirmed when, after 
briefly stating some of the conditions that the fort 
was now compelled to face, the colonel said : 

“And now, my lad, I must get word to those 
who are coming to our aid as to what our plans 
are. The Tryon militia may be already on the 
march, and I must let General Herkimer know 
what we purpose to attempt. You must leave the 
fort soon. ’Tis beyond the power of mortal man 
to know whether you will succeed or no,” he added 
soberly and with strong feeling, “but the safety 
of the fort and the lives of all the garrison may 
depend upon you. I trust you, David, and though 
I hesitate to send you on this errand, some one 
must go, and you are young and strong and not 
without experience in a task like this, as your suc- 
cess in making your way to Colonel Mellon well 
attests.” 

“The enemy is strong and is all around the fort,” 
suggested David, his lips trembling as he spoke, in 
spite of his efforts to be calm. 

“ Yes, ’tis true, the enemy is mighty, but there is 
One who is almighty.” 

David said no more and, after listening atten- 

R 


258 


DAVID’S ERRAND 


tively to what Colonel Gansevoort had further to 
say, soon departed from his quarters and at once 
prepared to leave the fort on his well-nigh hopeless 
errand. There was not even an opportunity given 
him to speak a word to his brother, and after he 
had placed a few crackers in his pockets, he at once 
departed from the fort. 

For a brief time a feeling of terror almost seemed 
to overwhelm him. In the summer night he could 
see the outlines, and even the shadows, of the tall 
trees of the forest, and every tree might be the 
hiding-place of a savage who had witnessed his 
departure. He crouched low and frequently paused 
to listen. The hideous yells which had been the 
nightly serenade of the inmates of Fort Schuyler 
had not been heard on this night, but that the 
Indians and their no less savage allies had departed, 
he knew was not true. Every moment he almost 
expected to hear the sound of a rifle or the whis- 
tling of a bullet, or to feel the blow of the silent 
tomahawk or knife thrown by an enemy concealed 
in the darkness. Thoughts of his mother and 
father, and the brother whom he had left in the 
fort without a word of farewell, at times crowded 
upon him. In his desperation he even pictured to 
himself the long uncertainty which would be theirs 
when at last his fall would be suspected, and then 
the suspense deepening into the conviction that he 


DAVID’S ERRAND 


259 

was among the missing and was to be missed for 
evermore. 

As he safely gained the border of the forest and 
realized that as yet he was unharmed, he gradually 
became calmer and was able to think more clearly 
concerning his own peril and problems. He did 
not know how dense the lines of the enemy were, 
nor how far back into the woods they extended, 
but his greatest danger would be in striving to 
make his way through them. 

The thought nerved him to still greater caution 
and dropping upon his hands and knees he crawled 
slowly from bush to bush and from tree to tree. 
Several times he heard the sound of voices of men 
engaged in a low conversation near him, but each 
time the men passed on and he was not discovered. 
Time and distance were almost ignored now. He 
would look before him and select the next place to 
which he would advance and then crawl slowly for- 
ward, his ears straining to hear the sounds which 
would betoken his discovery, and every muscle 
tense and rigid ready to respond to an instantane- 
ous demand for action. So on and on he went, 
crawling for the most part and only occasionally 
rising to his feet, and then he bent low and darted 
forward cautiously, silently. Still he had not been 
molested. Twice he had seen men moving about 
among the trees and once he had made a wide de- 


26o 


David’s errand 


tour when he had almost stumbled upon a place 
where several men were seated on the ground, but 
in each case he had succeeded in passing them 
without being discovered. 

At last, when it seemed to him he must have 
gone beyond the limits of the opposing lines, for he 
had neither heard nor seen any one for what he 
thought must be a long time, he arose and leaning 
against a tree gazed keenly about him and listened 
intently. Only the sighing of the gentle wind in 
the treetops could be heard. The stars in the 
heavens were becoming dim and the long night 
was almost past. Not knowing whether his danger 
would be increased or not with the coming of the 
light, it nevertheless was a comfort to be able to 
see about him and be relieved from the added ter- 
ror of the darkness. Taking some of the crackers 
from his pocket he ate a scanty breakfast and then, 
throwing himself upon the ground, he drank from 
the waters of the little brook which noisily babbled 
on its way at his feet. 

Refreshed, he once more resumed his journey 
and soon to his surprise and delight beheld the 
rude corduroy road before him and knew that, 
whatever might be his danger, at least he was now 
certain of his way. For a mile or more he walked 
swiftly forward over the rough logs, all the time 
maintaining a careful outlook ; but it was broad 


David’s errand 


261 


daylight now, and in the fear that he would be too 
excellent a mark for any one concealed in the trees 
by the roadside he decided to return to the woods 
and no longer use the more exposed pathway. 

Accordingly he turned into the forest, but the 
walking was much more difficult there. Swampy 
places, ravines, tangled brush, and broad gullies 
made him lose time and soon he decided to enter 
the roadway again. Just before he left the shelter 
of the trees he was almost too terrified to move by 
suddenly perceiving a band of not less than thirty 
of the red men, hideously painted and in their garb 
of war, approach the road from the opposite side, 
not more than five rods away. 

His first impulse was to turn and run, but fearing 
lest he should stumble and so betray his presence, 
he hastily climbed into a tree and from among its 
branches peered forth at his enemies. 

To his inexpressible relief he saw that the In- 
dians, after they had entered the road, stopped for 
a moment and peered keenly about them in all 
directions. Apparently satisfied with their obser.. 
vations they at once approached a heap of fresh 
earth, which those who had been recently repairing 
the road had thrown up in their labors, and to the 
watching David’s intense surprise, he saw several 
of the warriors drop upon their hands and knees 
and begin to dig a hole in the mound. They 


262 


DAVID’S ERRAND 


worked swiftly and in a few minutes a hole large 
enough to contain the body of a man was made. 

Then one of the warriors, whom David thought 
he recognized as Saucy Nick, placed himself in the 
excavation and his companions quickly covered him 
with the soft earth, leaving only his face and a part 
of his head exposed. They then brought hemlock 
boughs and placing them over his face, effectively 
concealed him from the sight of any passer-by, 
though the Indian himself was able to see through 
his covering. Removing the traces of their pres- 
ence, his companions at once withdrew into the 
forest and disappeared from sight. 

David could clearly see all that had been done, 
but he was in no way able to conjecture what the 
purpose of the strange actions had been. The one 
Indian surely had been left in the mound, but 
whether the others had really departed or not he 
could not decide. At all events it would not be safe 
for him to leave his hiding-place for the present, 
David thought, and perhaps the added element of 
curiosity helped him to decide to remain where he 
was for a time at least. 

The young soldier did not learn until afterward 
that Brant, who was ignorant of the numbers Gen- 
eral Herkimer was leading to the aid of Fort 
Schuyler, had chosen this means of finding out, 
and that the keen-eyed Indian, within a few feet 



“They then brought hemlock boughs and effectively concealed him.” 

Page 262 




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David’s errand 


263 


of the lines, had counted every man who passed 
and then crawling forth from his hiding-place had 
run swiftly through the forest to the great chief 
with his information, and, as a result of his report, 
the ambuscade at Oriskany had been carried out 
with its almost fatal success. 

Within a half-hour after the Indian had been 
concealed in the sand-heap, David was startled by 
the sound of men coming up the road from the 
south. Soon numbers of them could be seen and 
he was rejoiced when he recognized some of them 
as men whom he had known in the valley, and he 
was now aware that this must be the very army of 
Herkimer for which he had a message from Colonel 
Gansevoort. 

His first impulse was to leave his place and de- 
clare himself, but after a brief hesitation he con- 
cluded to wait until all had passed, or at least until 
the rear guard came up, when with less danger 
of himself being mistaken for an enemy and with 
the possibility of learning the plan of the concealed 
Indian, he could join them. The struggling lines 
were marching without much semblance of order. 
The men were frequently conversing or laughing 
as they advanced. The thought of danger evi- 
dently had not occurred to them and if they might 
be judged by appearances they had slight regard 
for it if it should come. 


264 


DAVID’S ERRAND 


The long lines passed and at last Colonel Vis- 
scher’s rear guard drew near with the rude baggage 
train. They too passed and still the purpose of the 
hidden Indian had not been revealed. At last, 
when all were gone and David had resolved to 
leave the tree where he was and hasten after the 
departing men, first having attended to the case 
of his warrior, he grasped his gun and began to 
descend. For a moment his back was turned to 
the pile of sand, and when he cautiously approached, 
to his consternation he discovered that the hem- 
lock boughs had been pushed aside, the place was 
empty and the warrior gone. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


A SORTIE 

P UZZLED as David Hardin was by the strange 
disappearance of the Indian warrior whom 
he had seen in the excavation in the sand heap, 
he did not delay to make further investigations, 
but at once pushed rapidly forward to join the 
straggling line of Colonel Visscher’s forces. Soon 
he could see them in the distance and quickening 
his pace he was about to join them when he sud- 
denly beheld them pause and a moment later a 
wild yell clearly showed that evil of some kind had 
befallen them. 

In an instant the body of men had turned and 
the rough roadway seemed to be filled with a con- 
fused mass of struggling, shouting, fleeing soldiers. 
The few horses attached to the baggage wagons 
greatly increased the turmoil as they plunged 
about, or breaking from their fastenings dashed 
madly down the road, like the men, apparently 
unmindful of everything save securing safety by 
flight. 

Before he fairly understood what was going on, 
David found himself in the midst of the fleeing 

265 


266 


A SORTIE 


force and like them was running swiftly. Behind 
him could be heard the war cries of the Indians 
and the sound of their frequent shots. Apparently 
they were as eager in the pursuit as the others 
were in flight and for a time it seemed as if pande- 
monium reigned supreme. Baggage was aban- 
doned ; men were falling from the lines ; shouts 
that the entire army had been ambushed were 
heard above the reports of the rifles, and altogether 
it was a scene such as the young soldier had 
never looked upon before in all his life. 

At last the scattered band, or rather those of it 
who survived, made their way back to the little fort 
on the site of the present city of Utica. But not 
even then did the confusion and fear depart. The 
sound of the distant firing could be heard and all 
knew that their recent companions had met the 
enemy, though with what result none could tell. 
At last, several hours afterward, the little army of 
General Herkimer also made its way back to the 
same place and the reports of the battle of Oris- 
kany were instantly made. 

Stories of personal bravery, the death of many 
a comrade, the tenacity with which the ground had 
been held by the militia and the claim of final 
victory were all common, but not one could retrieve 
the cowardice of Colonel Visscher’s “ regiment,” 
that had so basely deserted their comrades when 


A SORTIE 


267 


the attack by Brant and Butler had been made. 
And these were the men who had been the most 
eager to advance and the most ready to charge 
the brave old general in command with being a 
coward and afraid to advance. Perhaps the fact 
that General Herkimer himself had been so terri- 
bly wounded did not afford them any comfort, 
and the report of how he had remained on the 
field smoking his pipe as calmly as if his leg had 
not been shattered by a ball, and seated with his 
back to a tree while the bullets were falling all 
about him, must have forcefully reminded every 
one of the charge of cowardice made against the 
doughty old warrior. 

When General Herkimer a little later was carried 
on a litter to his own home and it was decided that 
his leg must be amputated the feeling became even 
stronger. On the night following the amputation, 
the men who were watching by his bedside were 
cautioned by the surgeon to keep a careful watch 
to see that the wound did not begin to bleed again, 
and in case the wound should break out they were 
to report the matter at once. But the “bottle of 
spirits ” which in those days was considered as 
necessary in a sick-room as the watchers them- 
selves, was passed from hand to hand and as a 
consequence every one fell asleep. When they 
awoke, to their consternation they discovered that 


268 


A SORTIE 


the leg had been bleeding profusely and they at 
once gave the alarm. 

But it was too late. Sturdy Nicholas Herkimer, 
who had suffered so unjustly from the cruel charges 
of his men, was now to suffer far more from their 
neglect, and he was informed that he had but a 
brief time more of life. Calmly the suffering man 
called for his Bible, selected the thirty-ninth Psalm, 
and read it aloud, his voice never once breaking 
throughout the ordeal. Then, commending his 
soul to his Maker, the hero and martyr — for he 
was both — went home to God. Brave as many 
of his followers had proved themselves to be in 
the most bloody and terrible engagements of all 
the long struggle of the Revolution, their leader 
was as much a victim of their own acts as were 
the motionless bodies of the dead on the field of 
Oriskany. 

Meanwhile the sound of firing from the direction 
of Fort Schuyler which had aided in drawing the 
white men and red from the struggle at Oriskany 
had not been meaningless and we must turn to 
learn its cause. As we know, Jonathan Hardin 
had gone with Colonel Willett and two hundred 
and fifty men forth from the fort on an errand of 
whose purpose he was only partly aware. Just as 
they were about to enter the woods, the terrific 
downpour of rain, which had been so severe as to 


A SORTIE 


269 


make even the fighters at Oriskany pause in their 
struggle and wait for the storm to pass over, broke 
upon Colonel Willett’s band and the men all 
speedily re-entered the fort. After the shower had 
passed, again they sallied forth. Colonel Willett him- 
self leading the way, and so impetuous were his 
movements that his followers caught the contagion 
of his zeal and eagerly and rapidly they made their 
way through the forest. Soon there was no doubt 
left in the mind of any soldier as to what their des- 
tination was to be, for they were moving grimly, 
swiftly, and silently directly toward the Tory camp. 
Nearer and nearer they approached and soon they 
were directly upon it. 

Sir John Johnson’s men, taken by surprise, over- 
whelmed by the mad rush of the determined band, 
without attempting even to make a stand, broke 
from the camp and fled swiftly into the woods. 
As the voices of the patriot band broke into a 
cheer, Colonel Willett said sharply : 

“ Not yet, men ! There’s more to be done !” 

Instantly, as he gave the word to advance, the 
entire force moved upon the camp of the Indians, 
and they too did not stand upon the order of their 
departure. Breaking wildly from the place, the 
red men followed their recent white companions 
who had set before them such an example, and 
their camp, as w^ell as that of the Tories, was in 


2/0 A SORTIE 

the hands of Colonel Willett and his determined 
men. 

Word was sent swiftly back to the fort of the 
success which had attended the sortie, and speedily 
the seven teams of horses and the wagons at Fort 
Schuyler were sent to assist in conveying the plun- 
der to the garrison. All the camp belongings, the 
clothing, blankets, and stores had been secured, 
and so much of it was there that twice the wagons 
returned for fresh loads, making twenty-one in all 
that were carried safely behind the walls of Fort 
Schuyler. 

When at last all the belongings had been se- 
cured, Colonel Willett prepared to return to the fort 
with his men ; but soon after the order to march had 
been given, it was discovered that St. Leger, with a 
large party, was striving to intercept them and, by 
getting between the returning men and the fort, to 
cut them off from aid and take the entire band 
prisoners. 

For a time the situation of the men was extremely 
critical, yet with the same spirit with which they 
had sallied forth, they now determined to fight their 
way back, and immediately they opened fire upon 
the opposing regulars. 

Colonel Gansevoort was not unmindful of the 
peril of his friends, and soon the cannon of Fort 
Schuyler were aiding in the contest, the sound of 


A SORTIE 


271 


their heavy booming reaching even the ears of those 
who were struggling on the field at Oriskany. Stead- 
ily and strongly Colonel Willett’s men pushed their 
way forward and soon, without the loss of a single 
man, they all were welcomed within the walls of 
Fort Schuyler, where such a shout of joy went up 
as must have been heard far down the Mohawk. 

Among the possessions secured by the victorious 
little band were five of the British standards, which 
were immediately run up on the walls of the fort, 
and there underneath the flag of fluttering stars 
and stripes, which the garrison had just constructed, 
they helped to bid defiance to the army of be- 
siegers. 

St. Leger, however, like the sturdy Englishman 
that he was, had no mind to look upon the sortie 
as a disaster, and even decided to use the events 
of the day as if he had been victorious. Among 
the men who were now prisoners in his camp were 
Colonel Bellinger and Major Frey, and these two 
officers were compelled by the British leader to 
write a letter to Colonel Gansevoort in which they 
greatly exaggerated the disasters of the day and 
strongly urged the young commander of Fort 
Schuyler to surrender. They declared that the 
besieging force was very large and strong, that 
General Herkimer had been beaten back, and that 
there was no possible succor for the garrison. Bur- 


2/2 


A SORTIE 


goyiie must already be at Albany, they wrote, and 
it would be worse than folly to attempt to hold the 
fort longer. 

A verbal demand for surrender was made by St. 
Leger ; but, though no one knew how sadly troubled 
the young colonel was, he indignantly refused to 
listen. 

Then St. Leger, taught by the refusal that he 
must have some consideration for the demands of 
military etiquette, sent a written demand for the 
surrender of Fort Schuyler. 

Colonel Gansevoort’s reply to this note has been 
preserved and reads as follows : 

Sir : In answer to your letter of to-day’s date I 
have only to say that it is my determined resolu- 
tion, with the forces under my command, to defend 
this fort, at every hazard, to the last extremity, in 
behalf of the United American States, who have 
placed me here to defend it against its enemies. 

I have the honor to be, sir. 

Your most obedient and humble servant, 
Peter Gansevoort, Colonel^ 

Commanding Fort Stanwix. 

The condition of the fort, however, was soon 
critical. General Herkimer and the Tryon County 
militia had failed to make their way through the 
besiegers and come to its aid. The supply of pro- 
visions was again running low and there was no 


A SORTIE 


273 


means of learning the exact numbers of the be- 
sieging army or what was the next attempt to be 
made by them, to gain the place. Few of the men 
had suffered from the fire of the enemy, it was true, 
but the prospect of starvation was becoming daily 
more appalling. 

To Jonathan Hardin the siege was doubly trying. 
Not only was he compelled to suffer the privations 
with the men (and against these he did not rebel), 
but he had not heard a word from his missing 
brother David. The anxiety and suspense were 
harder to bear than hunger. Mynderse was gone 
and his fate was unknown, and now David too 
might have fallen. Reports of the terrible battle 
of Oriskany had been received at the fort and 
among those who had fallen might be his own 
brother, Jonathan thought. 

At last the condition had become so hard that 
Colonel Gansevoort decided that something must 
be done and at once. To send ordinary men out 
of the fort was not to be thought of, for they would 
be certain to fail. Sturdy Colonel Willett and 
brave Lieutenant Stockwell were at last selected 
to make the attempt to go to the army in the 
south (toward Albany) and endeavor to persuade 
the leaders to send some relief to the sadly beset 
garrison of Fort Schuyler. 

Accordingly the two men, at ten o’clock in the 
s 


274 


A SORTIE 


evening of the tenth of August, left the fort, and 
creeping on their hands and knees through the 
forest, started on their forlorn and desperate attempt 
to secure help for the fort which now, it was feared, 
had entered upon the last chance of longer holding 
its own against the foes which had surrounded it 
and were pressing it so hard. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE LAST VENTURE 

C OLONEL WILLETT and his companion, 
having departed from the fort by a sallyport, 
crept slowly on their hands and knees until they 
came to a swamp which lay near the banks of the 
river. Then crawling over the fallen logs and 
making their way from one foothold to another, 
they at last succeeded in passing the sentries of the 
redcoats and Indians, although at times they were 
within a few yards of them. 

Having accomplished this, they advanced into the 
forest. The blackness of midnight was about them 
and the undergrowth was thick and tangled. Small 
occasion for wonder is it that in such a situation the 
hardy men lost their way. To advance was as im- 
possible as to return. 

Their alarm was suddenly increased by the bark- 
ing of a dog not far away and at once they knew 
that a camp of the Indians was near, the red men 
having moved back farther from the fort after the 
successful sortie which Colonel Willett had made. 
What the result would have been had the dusky 
warriors discovered that the very man who had in- 

275 


276 


THE LAST VENTURE 


flicted SO great damage upon the besieging forces 
was so near them, can only be conjectured. 

For several hours the two men remained stand- 
ing motionless in the forest, fearful every moment 
that their presence would be discovered, and both 
well aware of what that event would mean to each. 
Neither had a gun, a light spear being the sole 
weapon, and to make a stand against their ene- 
mies was not even to be thought of 

At last, after what seemed an almost endless 
time, the morning star appeared in the sky and 
with its coming came a ray of hope. Slowly they 
moved to the north, guided like the wise men of 
old by a star, and then starting to the eastward, 
sometimes turning on their tracks and frequently 
wading in the stream or leaping from stone to stone 
so that as few as possible of the traces of their 
presence would be left behind them, they kept on 
their way. Their only food was a few crackers and 
the berries they could pick from the bushes in their 
pathway, and yet not once did they halt in all the 
long day that followed. When the night fell they 
dared not advance, for the fear of again losing their 
way was strong upon them, nor dared they strike a 
light. So stretching themselves upon the ground, 
like veritable babes of the woods they rested until 
morning. 

Resuming their flight, their scanty store of food 


THE LAST VENTURE 2// 

being now all gone, they were compelled to subsist 
upon the berries, but their zeal in a measure made 
up for their lack of food, and to their great joy, 
about three o’clock in the afternoon of that day 
they arrived at Fort Dayton, where a most hearty 
welcome was given them. 

There to their great delight they learned from 
Colonel Weston, whose regiment was stationed at 
German Flats, that the commanders had already 
heard of the disaster at Oriskany, where, though 
the patriots had perhaps won the day, they never- 
theless were not able to proceed to the relief of 
Fort Schuyler, and that General Arnold, with a 
New York regiment and General Lamed, with a 
force of the Massachusetts troops, were to march to 
the aid of Colonel Gansevoort. 

Resting at Fort Dayton only for the night, in 
the early morning Colonel Willett and his com- 
panion, both now supplied with horses, set forth to 
meet the advancing men, and that night, after a 
hard and wearisome ride, they met General Lamed 
and his men from the Bay State. From the leader, 
Colonel Willett received word that General Arnold 
was still at Albany, though he and his men were 
also to come to the aid of the besieged fort. 

Without any delay the determined colonel, who 
from his tireless energy and limitless zeal had been 
called by the Indians “ The Evil One,” started at 


278 


THE LAST VENTURE 


once for Albany, where he found General Arnold 
and learned from him that the New York regiment 
was already on its march up the Mohawk Valley. 

On the following day both Arnold and Willett 
set forth on horseback and two days afterward ar- 
rived at Fort Dayton where all the advancing force 
was now assembled. 

While Colonel Willett had been gone on his er- 
rand to Albany an event had occurred at Fort 
Dayton which, although apparently insignificant 
of itself, nevertheless proved to be the pivot on 
which the entire campaign turned, for it does 
not require a large object or a great event to 
be the turning-point in the histoiy of a man, a 
campaign, or a nation. Little things are not al- 
ways small, at least in their consequences upon 
character or life. About two miles from Fort 
Dayton, as we have already learned, was the hum- 
ble abode of Mr. Shoemaker, one of the most 
treacherous and determined Tories of all the valley. 
Word having been received by Colonel Weston 
that a secret meeting of the enemies of the country 
was to be held in the Shoemaker house, he sent a 
small detachment to the place to capture the men 
assembled there if it was deemed wise, but to break 
up the meeting in any event. 

In the night the sturdy little band advanced and 
were able to surround the house without being dis- 


THE LAST VENTURE 279 

covered. Within were Lieutenant Walter Butler, 
with fourteen men from St. Leger’s army, and the 
same number of Indians were also present All 
of these men had been busied in scattering copies 
of St Leger’s “proclamation,” of which we already 
know, throughout the region and now on their 
way back to the army had by appointment met 
some of the most bitter and active of the Tories at 
the house of Mr. Shoemaker. 

Lieutenant Butler was in the midst of a harangue 
and was becoming quite eloquent when suddenly 
the soldiers made their appearance and the entire 
party within the house were quietly made prisoners ; 
among them was our old friend, Han Yost Schuy- 
ler, who in spite of his apparent ignorance was still 
one of the most active of the Tory spies. Deprived 
of their weapons, the entire company, Han Yost in 
their midst, were marched back to Fort Dayton 
and lodged in quarters where they would be safe 
until the arrival of General Arnold, who would de- 
cide as to their fate. 

General Arnold upon his arrival at the fort at 
once ordered a drumhead court-martial, Colonel 
Willett acting as judge advocate. Lieutenant But- 
ler was convicted and the sentence of death pro- 
nounced upon him ; but as some of the officers on 
the trial had been former friends and fellow-stu- 
dents of the unfortunate young officer, at their ear- 


28 o 


THE LAST VENTURE 


nest request he was reprieved and sent to Albany. 
Of his life there and the manner in which he con- 
trived to escape from his prison, treacherously as 
many believed, it is not the part of this story to 
record. 

Among those who came up for trial at Fort 
Dayton was Han Yost Schuyler. His coarseness 
and brutality, the zeal with which he had carried 
information of the deeds and plans of the patriots 
to Sir John Johnson and Barry St. Leger were too 
well known for any sympathy to be displayed for 
the unfortunate young man. Much of his assumed 
bearing of stolid indifference had disappeared now, 
and for once Han Yost Schuyler was at no pains 
to conceal his intense interest in the proceedings 
about him. 

His despair when he received his sentence and 
learned that he was to be hanged as a spy on the 
following morning was intense, and perhaps was 
made more apparent by the manifest delight of 
the soldiers that at last the region was to be rid of 
one who had been such a traitor to all its efforts 
for liberty and peace. 

The news of the sentence spread rapidly through 
the fort and not long afterward was known in the 
regions beyond. Speedily it came to the ears of 
Han Yost’s mother and brother, who resided at a 
place not far distant from the fort, and without de- 


THE LAST VENTURE 


28 


lay the two made their way into the presence of 
General Arnold. 

A mother is a mother still, no matter what she 
or her boy may be, and in the agony of her grief 
she besought the general to spare the life of her 
wretched boy. She declared that he was not re- 
sponsible for what he had done, and promised for 
all time to come he would be true to his coun- 
try. To her tears and pleadings alike General 
Arnold gave no heed. Han Yost was a dangerous 
though not overwise enemy of the new nation and 
must die as the penalty of his long list of misdeeds. 

Major Brooks, after talking with some of the 
men and receiving from them a suggestion which 
he was not slow to favor, went to General Arnold 
and presented a scheme which the leader quickly 
accepted. No one knew better than he how inade- 
quate his force was to contend with St. Leger’s 
army. The fate of General Herkimer was a warn- 
ing and he quickly understood that great care must 
be taken or his men would fall into a panic if any- 
thing went wrong. As a consequence, the intrepid 
general, who, whatever else he might have been or 
become afterward, at least was no coward and at 
this time was not lacking in zeal for the cause of 
his country, decided to adopt the plan proposed 
by Major Brooks, which was as follows : 

Han Yost was to be permitted to escape from 


282 


THE LAST VENTURE 


the guard-house of Fort Dayton and his life was to 
be spared on the condition that he should make 
his way to the camps of the Tories and Indians 
about Fort Schuyler and by exaggerating the num- 
bers of the men whom General Arnold was lead- 
ing to the aid of Colonel Gansevoort create a panic 
and induce so many to leave that St. Leger would 
be compelled to raise the siege. This could be 
readily done, for Han Yost was well known by all 
the Tories and Indians of the Mohawk Valley and 
his words would therefore carry the greater weight. 
If Hans Yost failed to carry out his part of the 
plan, then his brother, who was to be left in the 
camp as a hostage while Han Yost was gone, was 
to be hanged by the same rope which had been 
prepared for the prisoner. 

The gipsy-like mother, withered, decrepit, and 
apparently feeble, eagerly as Han Yost himself, 
accepted the proposition, and agreed to remain in 
the fort herself until her boy should return. Gen- 
eral Arnold, however, declined her offer, much 
preferring to use Nicholas Schuyler in that way, 
and when the details of the plan had been made 
and accepted, the general and Major Brooks went 
out together, and in the hearing of the prisoner 
explained to the sentry of the guard-house what 
was to be done. 

With a significant look General Arnold said to 


THE LAST VENTURE 283 

the guard as he turned to leave, Do you now 
understand your duty?” 

“ I do,” replied the sentry. 

Not long after darkness had fallen over the land, 
Han Yost made his way out of the guard-house 
and when the cautious sentinel fired, giving the 
alarm, the erstwhile prisoner was safely within the 
shadows of the forest. The escape thoroughly 
aroused the garrison. Only a few of the men were 
in the secret, and when the guard turned out in pur- 
suit, if they had not been “wisely and carefully” 
led, perhaps Han Yost might have been brought 
back to the fort and then and there suffered the 
deserved penalty which all the patriots of the 
region were eager to have visited upon him. But 
as it was, Han Yost escaped and with several bul- 
let holes through the coat he wore as tokens of 
the truthfulness of the story he was to tell, was 
soon well on his way toward the camps of the 
Tories and Indians. 

During all this time, neither St. Leger nor the 
defenders of Fort Schuyler had been entirely idle. 
Every effort to frighten Colonel Gansevoort into a 
surrender having failed, the sturdy Briton, in the 
words Colonel Willet afterward used in his “ Nar- 
rative ” to describe his action, “commenced ap- 
proaching by sap, and had formed two parallels, 
the second of which had brought him near to the 


284 


THE LAST VENTURE 


glacis ; but the fire from the covert way rendered 
his further progress very difficult.” 

He had, however, now been able to approach 
within a hundred and fifty yards of the fort, and 
the feeling of uneasiness within was becoming 
more and more marked. Herkimer had failed, 
not a word had been received as to the success or 
failure of Colonel Willett and Lieutenant Stock- 
well, provisions were now very low, and many of 
the men were beginning to whisper among them- 
selves that it would be far better to surrender to 
St. Leger than to die of starvation. 

The young colonel in command was not ignorant 
either of the fears of the men or of the threatening 
peril. Carefully thinking out his plans, he at last 
determined that, if help did not soon come and 
his provisions gave out, rather than to surrender he 
would place himself at the head of his men and by 
making a sally from the fort strive to cut his way 
through the lines of the besieging enemies or fall 
in the attempt. Such, then, was the condition of 
affairs within and without Fort Schuyler when Han 
Yost “ escaped ” from the guard-house at Fort 
Dayton, and started on his way through the forest 
to the camp of St. Leger. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


CONCLUSION 

^ I "*HE siege of Fort Schuyler had now been con- 
^ tinued until the twenty-second day of Au- 
gust, and then suddenly and without any knowl- 
edge on the part of the garrison as to the cause of 
the unexpected withdrawal of St. Leger and his 
savage allies, the investing army departed. Such 
was their haste that the tents, a large part of their 
artillery, the camp belongings, and the baggage, 
were all left behind. Puzzled as Colonel Ganse- 
voort was, the fact of the departure could not be 
disputed, but light came soon after when Han 
Yost Schuyler entered the fort and related to the 
young commander a tale as strange as it was pleas- 
ing. 

As has been related, several shots had been fired 
through the clothing of the “escaping” prisoner 
before he had set out from Fort Dayton to give 
the impression that he had been shot by the guard 
in his hurried departure. Accompanied by one of 
the friendly Oneida Indians, Han Yost then pushed 
his way rapidly forward and in due time arrived at 
the outskirts of St. Leger’s army. His first pur- 

285 


286 


CONCLUSION 


pose was to visit the Indians, with many of whom 
he was personally acquainted and try the effect of 
his words upon them. 

These dusky allies of St. Leger were just then 
in no enviable frame of mind. The battle of Oris- 
kany had resulted in a far different manner from 
that which they had been led to expect, and not 
only had many of their most prominent warriors 
fallen, but there had been no booty or plunder, 
and the number of scalps they had secured had 
been so small as not to compensate them for their 
own losses. 

At the very time when Han Yost approached, 
they were holding a powwow, their medicine men 
being engaged in consulting the Manito as to what 
he desired his red children of the forest now to do. 
Slow-witted as the boy appeared to be, he never- 
theless well understood the character of the In- 
dians, and as he entered, instead of boldly de- 
claring the purpose for which he had come, he 
with a few words and many mysterious signs drew 
a number of them about him. Their curiosity 
having been aroused, and many questions being 
asked of him, Han Yost began to explain that a 
vast number of the patriots were now on their way 
to Fort Schuyler and that St. Leger and his allieii 
were in the greatest peril. 

When the startled Indians inquired how many 


CONCLUSION 


287 


there were in the approaching army, Han Yost 
shook his head despairingly and pointed to the mul- 
titude of leaves with which the trees above him 
were covered. He also showed the holes in his 
clothing and explained that he had been taken 
prisoner by the patriots and that though they had 
determined to hang him, he had preferred to take 
his chances of death by bullets rather than by the 
rope and so had made his escape in the midst of a 
shower of bullets. 

The Indians were now all alert and keenly in- 
terested, and the story spread like wildfire through- 
out the camp. At this time the friendly Oneida 
also entered the camp and with an added emphasis 
of his own, confirmed all that Han Yost had said. 
Three other Oneida Indians, whom Han Yost had 
fallen in with on the journey, also entered the camp 
at other points at this time, and they had their own 
tales to tell of the great army which was approach- 
ing. They also declared that the Americans had 
no desire to measure out vengeance upon the red 
men, only desiring to slay or capture the Tories 
•and regulars; but that if the Indians were found 
with St. Leger of course the fate of the leader 
would naturally be their own. 

The alarm among the Indian allies by this time 
had become consternation and they decided upon 
an immediate flight. St. Leger had by this time 


288 


CONCLUSION 


heard of the message and the messenger and at 
once summoned Han Yost to his presence, but the 
story the Dutch boy told him was like that he had 
related to the savages. Still, St. Leger tried des- 
perately to restore the confidence of his allies. He 
promised, he threatened, he did all in his power to 
induce them to remain, but without avail. Go they 
would, for they declared that in their powwow, 
which had been broken up by the coming of Han 
Yost, the Manito had declared to them his desire 
that his red children should at once withdraw from 
the siege and depart from the region. 

In despair St. Leger strove desperately to in- 
duce them, if they must go, to form a rearguard 
for his own departing troops, but his words availed 
little. Then he tried a means which never before 
had been known to fail and that was to induce his 
allies to drink freely of the “fire water” he pro- 
vided, but for once the red warriors declined even 
this allurement which so often had proved their ruin. 
Almost beside himself with rage, and now in de- 
spair, St. Leger speedily gave the command to raise 
the siege, and amidst a scene of indescribable con- 
fusion, not even stopping to eat the dinners, which 
at the very time were being cooked on the camp- 
fires, the entire army of the besiegers started to- 
ward Oneida Lake. Many of the Indians did not 
even wait for the council of their chiefs, which St. 


CONCLUSION 


289 


Leger as a last resort had called, to break up, but 
fled at once. The reports of the oncoming soldiers 
increased in number and in size, and it is said that 
even St. Leger himself was in terror at the thought 
of what his so-called friendly Indians might do. 

To make matters still worse, the few Oneida In- 
dians followed the fleeing army and whenever they 
noticed a disposition on the part of the troops to 
falter they would raise their voices and shout : 
“They are coming! They are coming!” and 
even the silent Oneidas would laugh heartily at the 
haste with which the flight would instantly be re- 
sumed. Indeed, it is said that at one time St. 
Leger and Sir John Johnson coming together had 
halted for the moment while each blamed the other 
for what was occurring. 

“You are to blame for the entire matter!” 
shouted St. Leger. “You promised me that you 
could and would hold the Indians till Fort Schuy- 
ler surrendered.” 

“Don’t blame me ! Blame yourself!” retorted 
the equally angry leader of the Tories. “ If you 
had been half a man yourself and had pushed the 
siege as a half-grown boy would have done, we’d 
have been inside the fort long before this.” 

It was in the dusk of the twilight when the angry 
leaders had halted for the moment and were quar- 
reling, without a thought of the effect of their words 


290 


CONCLUSION 


upon their followers. Suddenly the forms of two 
of the Oneida sachems loomed up near them, — one 
of them perhaps was Scanandoa himself, — and 
shouting as though they desired to be heard miles 
away, they called, “They are coming! They are 
coming!” and neither of the leaders of the re- 
treating army stayed upon the order of his de- 
parture, as they both turned and ran swiftly toward 
their companions. 

At last the army in confusion and disorder ar- 
rived at Oneida Lake and speedily made its way to 
Oswego and departed for Montreal. From that 
place St. Leger at once proceeded to Fort Ticon- 
deroga, planning to join the forces of Sir John Bur- 
goyne, which he expected to find there. But, to 
anticipate matters slightly, we know that Burgoyne’s 
expedition was a failure and that the shrewdly 
planned attempt to split asunder the rebellious 
Colonies had failed and that the effect of the entire 
northern campaign of 1777 -had been to cement 
more firmly the union which had been formed in 
the preceding year. 

Han Yost Schuyler accompanied St. Leger’s 
army as far as Wood Creek, and then becoming 
satisfied that there was no fear of a return, he de- 
parted and swiftly made his way to Fort Schuyler 
where he was the first to inform the dauntless 
colanel in command there that General Arnold 


CONCLUSION 


291 


with two regiments was on his way to his relief. 
From Fort Schuyler Han Yost proceeded to Fort 
Dayton and having convinced General Arnold of 
his faithfulness and the success of his ruse de 
guerre, his brother was set at liberty and Han Yost 
also was free. 

No love for the new nation had been kindled in 
his heart, however, and not long afterward he, 
with some of his equally treacherous neighbors, 
ran away and joined the forces of Sir John John- 
son. After peace had been declared in 1783 he 
came back to the Mohawk Valley, but as long as 
he lived he was looked upon as a “low, coarse, 
and apparently very stupid being.” 

With his accustomed energy General Arnold, as 
soon as he learned of the departure of St. Leger’s 
army, at once set out with nine hundred men to 
march to Fort Schuyler. On past the battlefield 
at Oriskany, terrible in its appearance as the men 
passed over it, swiftly on to the fort they moved ; 
but when they arrived there on the following day 
it was to learn that the energetic young colonel 
had already done what Arnold had hoped to do, 
that is, start in pursuit of the fleeing army of St 
Leger. 

The salute of artillery and the frantic cheers of 
I the garrison, sweet as they were to Arnold’s ears, 
were not so cheering as was the knowledge that 


292 CONCLUSION 

Colonel Gansevoort had already secured the most 
of the booty St. Leger had left behind. The plan 
to harass the rear of the retreating army could not 
well be carried out because of the swiftness with 
which the redcoats and red men had departed. 

Fort Schuyler was saved and the invading army 
of St. Leger had been driven back to the place 
whence it had come. Great was the rejoicing 
among citizens and soldiers, and well they might 
feel elated over the bravery and determination dis- 
played by all the patriot forces. 

Colonel Gansevoort soon afterward visited Albany, 
where he was received with such praise and enthu- 
siasm as almost to overwhelm the modest young 
officer. Indeed, on his return to his fellow-soldiers 
he said : 

“ I should be wanting in justice to you if I did 
not give some testimony of your good conduct 
during the time you have been in this garrison, and 
especially while we were besieged by the enemy. 
Believe me, that I am impressed with a proper 
sense of the behavior by which you have done 
essential service to your country and acquired 
immortal honor to yourselves. Nothing can equal 
the pleasure I have experienced since my absence, 
in hearing and receiving the public approbation of 
our country for our services, which is and must be 
to every soldier a full and ample compensation for 


CONCLUSION 293 

the same. Permit me to congratulate you upon 
the success of the American arms both to the 
southward and northward. Every day terminates 
with victory to America ; and I make not the least 
doubt, but in this campaign we shall effectually 
establish the independence of the United States 
and thereby secure to ourselves the rights and 
liberties for which we have so nobly stood forth.” 

Not very long afterward Colonel Gansevoort 
was promoted in the State line to be a brigadier 
general and Congress gave him a commission as 
colonel in the regular army of the United States. 
In October he was ordered by General Gates to 
take command of the large force assembling at 
Albany to oppose the coming of Sir Henry Clin- 
ton ; but as we now know, Sir Henry did not come, 
for good and sufficient reasons. 

The advance of General Arnold into Fort Schuy- 
ler brought special joy to one young soldier there, 
who was no other than our friend Jonathan Hardin, 
for with the forces of the general had also come 
his brother David. The meeting of the two broth- 
ers was a source of happiness to others besides 
themselves, and from this time forward they were 
not separated. They continued with their colonel 
to the end of the war, but then with their parents 
they returned to their home in the Mohawk Valley 
and not long afterward each was the owner of a 


294 


CONCLUSION 


farm and home of his own, though these two farms 
were still, like the brothers, side by side. Of 
the missing Mynderse not a word was ever heard, 
and there was no difficulty in believing that Sam 
Geake had not spoken truly when he had declared 
that he had seen the lad a prisoner among the In- 
dians. So in all probability he had fallen in the 
fray, but for many years his name was a familiar 
one in the valley and his memory was cherished, 
particularly in the homes of the Hardins. 

In Jonathan’s home there was one inmate that 
must not be forgotten, and that was the dog Stan. 
He lived on into a serene old age, petted and cared 
for by his owner, but at last he too went the way 
of all the earth. Of Stan’s former owner, the un- 
fortunate Captain Gregg, all the news that was re- 
ceived was that he had recovered from his terrible 
wound and was once more busy among his fellows. 
There was one other reference to him and his ex- 
perience found, however, and that was in 1779, 
when General Sullivan made his famous campaign 
against the Seneca Indians. One of the chiefs to 
fall was Kayingwaurto and upon his person the 
following paper was found : 

This may certify that Kayingwaurto, the Sanake 
[Seneca] chief has been on an expedition to Fort 
Stanwix and has taken two scalps, one from an 
officer and a corporal that were gunning near the 







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